


Code Word Classified - Gallifrey

by ncruuk



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/F, No Angst, Paternoster Gang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 150,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4885810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncruuk/pseuds/ncruuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The SGC is classified, everyone (who knows about the SGC) knows that.  But some parts of the SGC are code word classified, only known to the chosen few.  The most classified of all is Gallifrey.</p><p>[This is an SG1 future-fic that assumes Heroes didn't happen/happened but was fixed.  Only specific spoiler is plot of the s2 ep 1969]</p><p>[No major spoilers for Doctor Who as long as you know who all the tagged characters are, which means you will have seen 'The Day of the Doctor'.  There is a potential spoiler for s9 two-parter The Zygon Invasion/Inversion however if you have seen any trailer/promotional material for that two-parter you're good to go.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - the Tauri with the Jelly Beans

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came when I was reading Sam/Janet SG1 stories whilst waiting for my chromecast to do its software update... at which point I watched the Doctor s8 double episode series finale (to remind me what was happening before I watched s9's first eps) which reminded me that I liked the character Kate Lethbridge Stewart. Which then saw me watch some more clips on youtube, which reminded me of Vastra/Jenny and the Paternoster Gang, which meant I read some Vastra/Jenny stories.... cutting a long story short, I then remembered that the reason I like Dr Who is because I generally like the non-Companion female characters more than the Companions. And, well, because I'm me, I wondered what happened if SG1 (ok, Sam Carter and Janet Fraiser) got involved.
> 
> The result is this, which sees me write SG1 for the first time in 8 1/2 years and Dr Who for the first time ever.... Geronimo!

 

“…not that it isn’t always a delight and a joy to see you and your, ahem, produce…”

 

“This is the Class 2 merchandise, you are a Class 1 customer.  You must come this way to the better produce.”  In contrast to the visitor’s lighter, possibly English sounding voice thought Captain Samantha ‘Sam’ Carter (who had subconsciously got used to most of the alien peoples that they met sounding almost Canadian), the voice of the ‘Custodian’ that seemed to serve the dual role of Prison Governor and greengrocer was a low, loud monotone which was, regrettably, not easily ignored, being of the right pitch and harmonic to make her sternum vibrate.

 

“…Yes, well, ahem, they’re lovely, really… not sure Class 2 is quite fair, some of them…”  There was a pause as the visitor stopped and evidently took some sort of scan or reading with a pen type device, or at least, that was what her best guess was, based on the shadow she was currently watching, not being able to see the visitor or Custodian, “… I thought Tebdarans were automatically Class 1?” asked the visitor, a slight hardness entering his tone.

 

“The treaty only applies if they are of working age and have their birth number of antennae.  Class 1 is this way, Doctor.”

 

“I’m not interested in Class 1…” began this Doctor, starting to protest again as they continued their journey through the long lines of cages, although his shadow suggested he continued his scanning of the ‘produce’ without any censure from the Custodian.

 

As prisons went, thought Sam, losing interest in the visitor again as he moved away, she was generally impressed.  It wasn’t the most luxurious prison cell she’d ever stayed in (and regrettably, she had now stayed in more prison cells in the last 3 years than hotels or motels, meaning she was well qualified to act as a ‘mystery shopper’ reviewer) but true luxury only really kicked in once you were the ‘one-of-a-kind’ prisoner of an alien aggressor with a misplaced deity complex who had decided you were the physical manifestation of simultaneously their greatest threat and source of salvation.  However, the individual cell with natural light, a decent level of cleanliness and no randomly violent or sexually aggressive guards did elevate this people, whoever they were, towards a better comfort rating for their prisons, even if her automatic capture and imprisonment for being ‘for the fruiting’ did not earn them any humanitarian or social capital points.

 

“Interesting…” Sam’s inner travel review write up was interrupted by the Doctor’s shadow returning to her field of vision and stopping, his voice taking on a new, almost thoughtful tone, “… maybe I am interested in Class 2 produce… Custodian?”

 

“Yes Doctor?”

 

“Show me the human.”

 

“Hu-man?”  The Custodian was not familiar with the term, but Sam was, or rather, wasn’t familiar with hearing it in the middle of a mission.  She was now definitely interested in the visitor.

 

“Yes, Human, two-legged predominantly hairless ape…” Seeing no look of recognition on the Custodian’s face, the Doctor tried to think what the current idiomatic term might be for the people of Earth.  Whilst the Tardis’ translation matrix was excellent, it always struggled a bit with colloquialisms and the more complex or subtle idioms, not really surprising when you could be anywhere in all of space and time. “…tauri?”

 

“You wish to see the tauri?” asked the Custodian, surprised.  They rarely had tauri in stock these days, it was unfortunate that their Class 2 categorisation had occurred when the supplies were far more prevalent.  On rarity value alone, this particular Custodian had always felt that they should be able to collect Class 1 or even Alpha prices for tauri but rules were rules.

 

“Did I not just say that?  Show me the tauri!” demanded the Doctor, repositioning the tassel of his Fez so it wasn’t hitting him on the nose and self-consciously straightening his bow-tie.

 

“This way Doctor,” said the Custodian finally, remembering that a sale was still a sale even when the customer was clearly wrong.   “You’re lucky we’ve got one, a tauri, they’re usually a special order item.”

 

“I’m no longer on your mailing list,” muttered the Doctor absently, shaking his sonic screwdriver when it started sputtering.  He really did need to find the time to get someone who was confident with a soldering iron to sort out that loose connection for him.

 

“Tauri?  Stand front!” bellowed the Custodian, only to discover that Sam was already standing towards the front of the cell, her own curiosity overriding the more familiar ‘prison stubbornness’.

 

“Hello… I’m the Doctor.”

 

“Doctor Who?” asked Sam, confused when the strangely dressed, unexpectedly young looking man grinned excitedly.

 

“You know who I am!  Have we met?  Wait, I never forget a face, I’ll remember in a moment.  Can I have a jelly bean whilst I remember?  I haven’t had a jelly bean since… wait, focus…”  Smiling in spite of herself, Sam reached into the pocket of her BDUs and pulled out the small packet of jelly beans that Janet had insisted she take with her when she’d admitted during her pre-mission medical that she’d forgotten her usual packet of mentos.

 

“Ooo, limited edition flavours, you’re the best, General Carter!” exclaimed the Doctor excitedly, snatching the packet away from her and starting to search through the packet, trying to find the flavour he wanted to try.

 

“You know my father?”  Even before she’d joined the Stargate Programme and her father had joined the Tok’ra, Sam had become used to meeting people who had expected to be meeting her father.  She hadn’t really considered Carter to be an unusual name until she’d joined the Air Force.

 

“What?  No, never met him.”  The Doctor paused in his jelly bean examination, “wait, you are Samantha Carter, United States Air Force?”

 

“Yes, but it’s Captain.  General Carter is my father, and he’s retired, sort of.”

 

“Oh, spoilers… oops.”  If it was possible for a Fez wearing bow-tie straightening Time Lord to look sheepish, the Doctor was doing a rather good impression at the moment, causing Sam to grin in spite of herself, “…trust the dear old thing to organise us meeting early.  She always knows what I need to do…”

 

“Dear Old Thing?”

 

“The Tardis, well, Time And Relative Dimension In Space to give the old girl her proper name.  She’s a type 40, doing remarkably well considering she’s got almost 900 years on the clock and most of that has been with a broken chameleon circuit.  Rather refreshing really, knowing that she’s comfortable with her looks.”

 

“Her looks?” asked Sam automatically, still working out the rest of the Doctor’s unexpected explanation although it seemed he was talking about some sort of ship that wasn’t sounding Goa’uld and, if she’d followed him correctly, was going to have a larger interior dimension than exterior one.

 

“Police Box, early 1960s, like the one she saw on Carnaby Street I think it was.  She enjoyed the 60s, can’t say I blame her…”

 

“It had its moments,” agreed Sam, thinking back to that rather unexpected trip to 1969, though she’d have preferred to not get quite so close to an active missile.  “Wait, the Tardis is your ship?”

 

“To travel through all of Time and Space, yes.  I’m a Time Lord, the last one in fact.  Ooo, a purpley-orangy one!  Can I have your purple-orangy one please General? I mean Captain?”

 

“Call me Sam, and yes.  Just don’t have eat the blue ones.”

 

“Not even if they’re stripy?”

 

“Especially if they’re stripy.”

 

“Gotcha.  Custodian?”

 

“Yes Doctor?”

 

“I’ll take the tauri.  No need to gift wrap, and I’m not paying for shipping.  I’ll take her with me right now.”

 

“But Doctor, you haven’t see the Class 1 produce yet.”

 

“Another day Custodian, another day.  Now quickly, we’ve got places to get to, people to see!” And, with a couple of brisk shakes of the pen-like scanner, Sam heard her cell locks disengage and saw the front of her cell open.  “Captain Carter?” invited the Doctor, gesturing for her to step out of the cell.

 

“Thank you Doctor.”  She had no idea who he was, or why he was there, or why he knew who she was but Janet’s favourite jelly beans were the blue stripy ones and anyone who understood the importance of not eating your girlfriend’s favourite jelly beans couldn’t be all bad.   And if nothing else, she was out of her cell before the Goa’uld arrived or the Custodian’s voice shattered her sternum.

 

“Sam?”

 

“Yes Doctor?”

 

“Have you learnt how to do those wonderfully clever things with a soldering iron yet?”

 

“What things?”

 

“Oooh, solderingy things.  It’s my sonic screwdriver…” Sam instinctively accepted the hand held device that the Doctor held out to her without looking away from the jelly bean packet he was still inspecting, “…a greeny-yellowy-pinky one.  I’m allowed those, aren’t I?” he asked, looking hopefully at her, his Fez tassel smacking him on the nose again.

 

“Yes, you can have that one,” agreed Sam, not noticing his little happy dance as she was distracted by the ‘screwdriver’ which was intriguing and, well, alien.

 

“Cool.  So, have you?”

 

“Have I what?”

 

“Learnt how to do those wonderfully clever things with a soldering iron yet?”

 

“I guess… why?”

 

“Because General you will be the best sonic screwdriver repair man, woman, General, person, that I ever know… and I’ve got a loose circuit.”

 

It was tempting to ask him to say that again... but then, he might eat her blue jelly beans, and that, that was not worth the risk…


	2. Cheese Sandwich

What was difficult about a cheese sandwich?  Why did it have to be complicated?  Even the ravens were not interested in the crust of her 'Wensleydale and Apple Chutney Pumpkin Seeded Spelt Bap', whatever that might be.  What was wrong with two slices of wholemeal bread, granary if that was the only Hovis, some cheddar cheese and butter to hold it all together, with some sliced tomato if it was Friday? (No, it wasn't a weird food quirk, just that her groceries were delivered on a Thursday night.  By Monday morning, she'd eaten all the fresh produce, including the tomatoes.  Which, most weeks, was a good thing as, according to Osgood, she was statistically more likely to have to work 72 hours straight starting on a Monday or Tuesday than the rest of the week in total.  Which is why she got her groceries delivered on a Thursday.)

 

"Ma'am!"

 

"Yes?" Relieved to be distracted from the poor excuse of a cheese sandwich that was, apparently not fit for consumption by any UNIT personnel (Human or Raven, and yes, they were on the payroll.  How else did anyone think she got them to deal with the small, fleshier trouble-making aliens that occasionally fell out of a time vortex or two?  They weren't prepared to put up with the Beefeaters for nothing), Kate Lethbridge-Stewart instinctively retrieved a small blue inhaler from her trouser pocket and shoved it into Osgood's left hand whilst extracting her phone from Osgood's right hand, confused as to why a simple phone call had triggered the need for the inhaler.  A quick glance at the screen however, answered that mystery.

 

"Doctor?"

 

"Ah, Kate.  That was quick.  Or was it?  Calling from a time vortex, always hard to know."

 

"Where are you Doctor?" asked Kate, tossing the remains of her lunch in the adjacent rubbish bin but otherwise remaining seated on the bench, watching the ravens.  It was always hard to tell with the Doctor, but if he was calling from a time vortex she probably had a few minutes of relative peace before he arrived, somewhere.

 

"In space? Not quite sure.  Time, hopefully yours, ish.  I think."

 

"What's wrong?" Frowning, Kate held out her hand for the tablet that Osgood, no longer hyperventilating, held out.  It was rather disconcerting, having a calm and non-asphyxiating Osgood at the same time as a less than calm Doctor, who, now she thought about it, sounded a bit less Scottish than the last time she'd spoken to him.

 

"It's the Tardis."

 

"What about the Tardis?"  Kate resisted the urge to lose her temper with the Doctor.  It was a good job the UNIT call plans included unlimited minutes via subspace teletext relay and the Black Archive - only a Time Lord would take this long getting to the point of his call given he only rang her when it was critically important (or he'd ended up with a fish-finger and custard imbalance in the Tardis larder).

 

"It's time for her thousand year service and MOT.  And I think she's going to fail."

 

"Is that all Doctor?"

 

"What do you mean all?  I'm hurt Kate, the Tardis is hurt..."

 

"Any passengers with you on the Tardis?" In spite of herself, Kate couldn't stop smiling.  Despite the disastrous sandwich, her day did appear to be improving.

 

"Nope, just me and Sexy..."  It took Kate a moment to remember that 'Sexy' was the name the Tardis had initially given herself when she'd constructed a humanoid interface.  He must be worried.

 

"And no hitch-hiking harbingers of doom? No daleks or cybermen?" checked Kate, standing up and double checking the tablet, which had painted a reassuringly calm picture of all adjacent space and time 2 minutes ago and, rather impressively, still was.

 

"Nope, and no Zygons either.  It's just me and Sexy, who thinks you don't like her anymore."

 

"Oh, I always like Sexy, just not always cheese sandwiches," said Kate, causing Osgood to reach for her inhaler again.

 

"I have no idea why anyone thinks chutney is a good idea in a cheese sandwich.  What's wrong with a bit of cheddar and some butter to hold it all together?  A slice of tomato if you're feeling fancy?" bemoaned the Doctor, relieved that the pressure readings on the thingamy next to the whatsit above the dodah were no longer appearing on the screen in that rather nauseating shade of green and were now a much more optimistic cornflower blue.

 

"Quite.  Are you going to make it?"

 

"Yes, I think so, have to wait until the orbits are aligned, make it easier for the old girl.  River's going straight there, well, she's picking up Vastra on the way.  No doubt Strax too."

 

"I'll set off now."

 

"Thanks Kate, gotta go, see you on Tuesday."  And just like that, the Time Lord was gone.  For a man who had all of space and time at his disposal, it was impressive how rarely he managed to be where he needed to be when he wanted to be there.

 

"Inhaler," instructed Kate, not wanting to risk Osgood passing out completely on being caught up with events - as it was, she was probably going to be light-headed, if she wasn't already.

 

"Sexy?" asked Osgood once she'd felt the Ventolin start to take effect.

 

"The name the Tardis gave itself.  Odd choice.  Have you met Vastra yet?"

 

"No, but I'm familiar with her file."

 

"Probably best not to tell her that, I don't think she'd appreciate it."

 

"Is she coming here?"

 

"Yes, well, in time, hopefully.  I suppose it depends how good Dr Song's navigation is at the moment, hard to know, what with all the timelines.  But we're meeting them all there," said Kate, tapping the app icon on her phone that mobilised the UNIT plane as she strode across the cobbles to where the armoured Land Rover was waiting, ready to whisk them to RAF Northolt.

 

"There as in...?" asked Osgood, falling into step with Kate and rather disorientated geographically but, then again, she was also distracted with trying to work out if there was a reason for the Doctor to know about ‘Cheese Sandwich’.  Surely there wasn’t anything alien about cheese sandwiches, after all, there wasn’t anything in the Archives about them the last time she checked, and Osgood did check.  Regularly.

 

"The SGC.  It would seem that it's time for the Tardis' service."

 

"Oh.  Oh god..."

 

"Inhaler!"  

 


	3. There's Something in the Air

 

“Do not attempt to escape, I will boil you in acid.”

 

“Strax…” It was approaching 1am, the wind was blowing in just the right direction to catch the edges of her cloak and the rain was cold and wet.  A Sontaran butler was challenging all of the time, entertaining most of the time, useful some of the time and downright infuriating on occasion.  Right now,  when he was keeping the Lady of the House on the outside of her own threshold, he wasn’t remotely entertaining.

 

“Good evening Madame, may I hang your cloak and mortally cripple your hat?” Strax stepped smartly aside and waited whilst Madame removed her hat, veil and cloak.  He’d tried once to help her remove her garments but the boy had glared, before Madame had explained how her garment fastenings were not designed for Sontaran hands, so now he just satisfied himself with making it suffer with hanging.  It wasn’t a glorious defeat on the fields of battle, but it was a victory, and, for the honour of his clone batch, he must be victorious whenever possible.

 

“Thank you.”  Cloak removed, the long sword that Madame Vastra wore easily at her hip was now visible.  As she moved to place it on the rack with its sisters (Silurian swords were always female), she took note of the dimmed lights in all rooms apart from the space her wife called the  'Butler’s Pantry', the small room off the side of the kitchen that Strax had claimed as his own.  Clearly he had been working on new battle strategies whilst waiting for her return.

 

“The boy…” Strax paused: knowing what he had just said was wrong, he tried to remember what he was supposed to call the human, “... your wife has retired for the evening.”

 

“And I will too.  Go to to bed Strax, there is much to do in the morning,” encouraged Vastra gently, appreciating that he had stayed up to let her in despite the late hour.

 

“We attack the Moonites tomorrow?” he asked, eyes blinking with excitement.  He would have to practice his battle cry.

 

“Perhaps.  I will review your battle plans tomorrow at 11,” suggested Vastra kindly as she started up the stairs, “but only if you sleep and DO NOT practice your battle cry.”

 

“But Madame…”

 

“You may however play with your new grenades, after breakfast.”

 

“Sleep, breakfast, new grenades, no battle cry, Moonites,” summarised Strax, his earlier enthusiasm returning.

 

“Good night Strax.” Vastra had no intention of reviewing any battle plans in the morning, but then Strax could never remember a list more than two things long.  By the time he was in his bedroom, he would have forgotten everything past breakfast on his list.

 

“Good night Madame Vastra,” replied Strax automatically as he set off to the Butler's Pantry, muttering the plan for the morning, “sleep, breakfast, new grenades, no battle cry, Moonites… sleep, breakfast, new grenades, no battle cry... “

* * *

 

"My love?"

 

"No need to whisper, I'm awake..." mumbled Jenny, putting her book aside and starting to scrutinise her wife for any outward signs of injury or harm from her evening excursion.

 

"Are you certain of that my love?" teased Vastra, taking care to make sure the bedroom door was most definitely closed before moving towards the bed.

 

"If this were a dream you'd not be wearing that..." muttered Jenny, only for her eyes to widen as she realised that, given the sparkle in those clear blue eyes, she'd shared that thought aloud.

 

"Of course, you prefer me in my Warrior's Uniform?" suggested Vastra as she bent to slowly unlace her boots with her still cold and stiff fingers whilst simultaneously, with a trick that would be the envy of many a Victorian lady, made short work of the buttons at the back of her dress with the forked tip of her tongue.  When she'd explained to Strax that her garment fastenings were not designed for Sontaran fingers, she'd also failed to explain that they were not exactly designed for ape fingers either.

 

"The publishers would have us think that all women imagine their lover in uniform," agreed Jenny vaguely, trying to not let on to Vastra how distracting she was finding that particular 'tongue trick'.  Although Vastra had assured her she had developed it out of necessity when, prior to Jenny's arrival in the Silurian's Victorian life, she had had to cope with socially appropriate contemporary fashion on her own, Jenny had her doubts, especially given Vastra only 'performed' this trick when wearing clothes tailored to her personal specification (which included customised button loops).

 

"The textural contrast of the starched white apron and the soft black of your dress is very memorable," said Vastra, taking care to remove her unlaced boots without letting her now unfastened dress drop from her body, meaning that Jenny was, quite deliberately, only allowed a tantalising glance of the top of scaled back as she moved.  For all Jenny's attempts to sustain conversation and create an illusion of indifference to her lover's disrobing, her careful phrasing and enunciation bore all the hallmarks of one trying too hard, giving herself away to the 'Great Detective' far more obviously than if she'd feigned indifference.

 

"I thought us apes all look the same to you?" teased Jenny, taking advantage of Vastra's attention being occupied with her boots by shuffling about a bit so that she was leaning more comfortably against the propped up pillows.

 

"Texture, my dear Jenny, is not a look, but a touch..." observed Vastra with mock patience, enjoying this game that they were now playing, her attention remaining at floor level as, boots unlaced and removed, she now dealt significantly less carefully with the horrid stockings that were far from comfortable and extremely vulnerable to damage from scales but did at least provide some slight protection from the cool night air.

 

"'Ere, 'ow many o'us apes you bin touchin'?" asked Jenny, suddenly indignant as she interpreted  what Vastra was humorously implying seriously, all attempts at carefully enunciated phrases abandoned as their teasing touched a rather sensitive nerve.

 

"In the way you know I mean my darling," said Vastra, quickly straightening up again, keen to reassure her wife that she had nothing to fear, especially when she saw the colouration in Jenny’s cheeks, "only you, my wonderful, silly ape."  As she spoke, she was relieved to see the tension and high colour in Jenny's expression fade, replaced instead with a more delicate shading and different type of tension which Vastra had come to learn as being an indicator of Jenny's embarrassment, only for the tension and shading to change once more as she released the hold she had on her dress, letting it fall to the floor, leaving her naked before her lover.  "Forgive your daft old lizard love?"

 

Wordlessly, Jenny lifted the bed covers in an unspoken invitation that Vastra quickly accepted - although the fire was still burning brightly, the room’s air was cool on the skin and scale.  Settling quickly in the bed, Vastra was surprised when her wife first threw away the shawl she’d been wrapped in, revealing a bare shoulder, before settling close against the lizard woman’s body, confirming that the rest of her wife was equally bare.  After a moment of shuffling, Jenny was comfortable, with her head resting on her wife’s chest.

 

“’m sorry.”

 

“What for my love?” asked Vastra, fiddling with a few strands of Jenny’s hair which, even now fascinated her.

 

“Bein’ daft.”

 

“What has troubled you?” It wasn’t like Jenny to react so hastily to what was, fundamentally, a long familiar tease.  In fact, the only times she could remember her wife’s reacting in that way were generally when they were involved with the Doctor and their friends.  “Did the Doctor visit in my absence my dear?”

 

“No… but that letter came in the last post.”  Jenny lifted her hand and pointed towards the letter which was addressed to ‘Madame Vastra, the Great Detective’ in a very decorative script and was propped up against the water jug on the bedside bureau.  “It smells ladylike,” muttered Jenny, drawing Vastra’s attention to the new strand of scent that was adding to the more familiar perfumes she’d generally come to associate with their bed.  “It got to me,” added Jenny quietly, feeling silly now she’d articulated the cause of her brief anxiety, "'specially as you weren't 'ere."

 

Turning her head slightly so that she could consider the letter in the gentle lamplight, Vastra flicked her tongue out slightly, tasting the air.  Pulling Jenny more closely to her, she placed a gentle kiss on her wife’s hair before explaining, “I am not surprised, as the letter has been scented with a mix of jasmine and vanilla which are thought by many to have an aphrodisiac quality on humans, not to mention the pheromones that have also been included in the potion.  Most interesting.”

 

“What is?” asked Jenny, following what Vastra had said, but not understanding how that made the letter interesting, although she was still struggling to get beyond the irritation that someone female was trying to send a seductive letter to her wife.

 

“Based on the selection of scents, it would seem that the primary intention is to actually create an emotional and sexual response in you my darling, as the majority of the elements within the perfume are intended to work on apes.”

 

“Or the sender don’t know you’re a lizard,” suggested Jenny,  gently tracing the outline of some of her lover’s larger scales at the top of her chest.

 

“But they do, know I am not an ape,” said Vastra, flicking her tongue thoughtfully in the direction of the envelope again, “as there is something else that…”

 

“What?  Is it dangerous?” Jenny lifted her head enough so she could see her wife’s face that was… actually, Jenny didn’t know how to describe it.  Based on the overall expression, if Vastra hadn’t been Silurian, Jenny would have said her wife was, well...

 

“Why are you laughing my love?”  

 

“Your face....”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Sorry.. it’s just… does it taste bad?  The something else?” asked Jenny, trying to stop laughing, at least long enough to make sure they weren’t in any danger.

 

“Extremely,” said Vastra, flicking out her tongue again and moving it quite deliberately in the immediate vicinity of her wife’s neck in a movement that Jenny had come to recognise as being Vastra’s equivalent to Jenny needing to smell some roses after dealing with Strax’s socks.  Vastra was taking the taste of the ‘something’ away from her tongue and replacing it with Jenny’s scent.  It was a very simple, instinctive behaviour from Vastra (all Silurians are taught at an early age how to ‘clean’ their tongues after exposure to a bad or unpleasant scent tasting) but the fact that this particular Silurian's chosen ‘clean’ scent was Jenny’s did more to reassure Jenny that her moment of doubt and confusion was entirely a product of something weird happening to both of them, and not that she was going daft by suddenly not trusting her wife and their love.

 

“What does it taste of?”

 

“Not a what, a who… it tastes male… lizard male.  I think someone has mixed ape aphrodisiac scents with female ape pheromones and some male lizard pheromones… most unpleasant,” concluded Vastra, pulling that face again, eliciting a fresh burst of giggling from Jenny, “...and not remotely funny my dear.”

 

“Sorry…”

 

“What is so amusing?”

 

“Your face…” Jenny hiccuped, trying to stop laughing, only for Vastra to frown further, setting Jenny off into more laughter, although she did at least manage to provide some assurance to her lover by pressing the odd, random kiss on wherever she could reach in between hiccups as finally, she managed to stop laughing long enough to provide some sort of explanation, “...when it tasted bad, you pulled a face…” Jenny paused, trying to work out how to explain what she meant to her wife, “...and it was the sort of thing I’d do before I’d got used to your… _special_ dinners…” Jenny managed to look up at her now thoughtful wife, waiting to see some indication that her explanation had made sense, so far.

 

“Ah yes, I remember those faces.  Not the most attractive of expressions.  But how is that funny?  I did not laugh.”

 

“No my love, and it wasn’t cos of your face I was laughing.  It was the voice in my head that made me laugh.”

 

“You have a voice in your head?”

 

“I mean, my thoughts.  You know, when you think somethin’ but it’s like you hear it as words?”

 

“Ah, the inner monologue.  I understand.  What was the joke?”

 

“Your face… if you were human, I’d have described your face as being green.”

 

"But my face is green."

 

"Yes...but, um, green, for us 'umans... it's 'ow we describe looking sick-like or jealous."

 

"Ah."  Vastra thought for a moment, before her eyes brightened as she recalled fragments of remarks from their cases confirming Jenny's explanation, "I looked ape-green as well as, well, my green?"

 

"Handsome green.  And yes... and that's what made me laugh.  What do you want to do with the letter?"

 

"I think we should open it, and see what the Doctor or, more likely, what River Song has to say," said Vastra, reaching out to grab the letter and passing it to Jenny to open.

 

"What, now? Like this?" For all her experience with the Doctor and other worlds and cultures, Jenny's strong sense of Victorian propriety did appear at the strangest of times as far as Vastra was concerned, "in bed?"

 

"I was not planning on relocating to the drawing room at this late hour, and I very much doubt the correspondence is either sentient or capable of transmitting images of us to the sender," said Vastra pointedly, using a well-manicured claw to open the troublesome envelope, revealing a single piece of cardboard that, on one side showed a highly coloured, glossy, photograph-like image of some mountains and, on the other, some rather unusual looking handwriting.

 

"What does it say?" asked Jenny, resting her head back on her wife's shoulder, recognising enough of the overall shape of the writing to know it was written in Silurian and was therefore from either the Doctor or River Song, exactly as the Great Detective had surmised.

 

"I am not entirely certain, for it would appear to be an attempt by River Song to write in High Silurian."

 

"High Silurian?"

 

"The form of our language used in all official papers.  It has a curious effect on Dr Song's style, but I can follow enough to understand her meaning."

 

"And?" asked Jenny impatiently.

 

"It would seem that tomorrow we should pack, for it is time for the greatest debt we owe to be collected by a very, very old friend, and for us to repay our debt, we will need to travel."

 

"I thought that was how we got Strax?"

 

"Indeed, but that was the debt I owed to the Doctor.  Now it is time for a different debt to be repaid, and one that we will gladly do," said Vastra firmly, putting the letter back on the bureau.

 

"I'm not sure I'm feeling all that kindly to Dr Song just now, what with all 'em scents she used to get our attention."

 

"She is not the friend to whom we owe this debt," explained Vastra mysteriously, turning down the lamp so their room was bathed only in the warm glow of the fire.

 

"So who then?" asked Jenny, not sure who else she knew who could claim they were owed a favour by her love.

 

"The Tardis.  She needs our help, and we will give it gladly."

 

"The Tardis?  The Doctor's ship needs our help?"  Jenny stopped after two questions, although she actually could think of at least as many again.

 

"She does my love, and, since the Doctor has always said that she takes him where he _needs_ to go in space and time, and not where he might _want_ to go..."

 

"... then we must help her," said Jenny decisively, suddenly understanding as, whilst it was the Doctor who had persuaded Vastra to give life in Victorian London a chance, it was the Tardis who had decided that the Doctor needed to meet Vastra.  And without Vastra, well, Jenny didn't want to think about that version of her life at all.

 

"Indeed we will my love, but..."

 

"What?"

 

"Perhaps we could wait until the morning?" suggested Vastra gently, trying not to react to the sharp elbow and knee that her wife had stabbed her with as she tried to exit their bed, presumably to start packing their swords and trunks.

 

"Oh, now who's daft?" asked Jenny, kissing Vastra's crown by way of apology as she lay back down, now very much on her wife, her very naked wife.

 

"Well..." began Vastra, slipping her hands down her lover's warm, smooth back until they were resting on her hips.

 

"Daft lizard..." muttered Jenny affectionately, trailing a line of kisses along her wife's jaw.

 

"Silly ape..." teased Vastra equally warmly as she coaxed Jenny's lips towards her own as the rest of the lovers' conversation continued in a more intimate, shared language of nips and licks and caresses and kisses...  this moment now was their time, the time before the adventure, the time for a lizard woman from the dawn of time and her wife to love each other, a love found with the help of the last Time Lord and his Tardis, a Tardis that they would gladly help, in any way they could.  

 

Tomorrow.


	4. In the wee, small hours of the morning...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with this fic for the first 5,000 ish words of this (rather gentle) roller-coaster (actually, more like a merry-go-round or teacups than a roller-coaster)... it would appear to be turning into a longish one.
> 
> Formatting note: dialogue denoted with * (instead of ") is the 'off-screen' side of a telephone conversation.

 

 

Most of the time, Samantha 'Sam' Carter managed to sleep very well.

 

Some of the time, Dr Carter managed to redefine the laws of physics despite not having a chance to sleep at all.

 

All of the time, General Carter could awaken very, very quickly.

* * *

 

It only took one ring of the telephone for General Carter to go from fast asleep to wide awake.

 

It only took one more ring of _that_ telephone for General Carter to recognise that she had another two rings before all the telephones on her bedside table started to ring.

 

It only took one further ring for General Carter to release that, at 0223 hours, of the five people who could ring that telephone, only three were probable.  She had a 1 in 3 chance her mental bet on the caller's identity would be right.

 

"General Carter."   

 

*Kate Stewart.  Do I need to apologise?*  Sam glanced across at Janet, who, despite using Sam's shoulder as a pillow, seemed to still be asleep.

 

"Jan's still asleep, so for the moment, no."

 

*I'll apologise in person.*

 

"Situation?" asked Sam, mentally reviewing what the various briefings and reports from the day before had covered and couldn't immediately think of anything that would have triggered the Head of UNIT setting off for the SGC.  Only last week the two organisation heads had managed to deal with some shapeshifting clone infiltrators by video-conference.

 

*Gallifrey.*

 

"Already?"

 

*I'm coming in early.  I'll be with you in 8 hours.*

 

"How early?" asked Sam, recalling the 5 teams she had off-world right now, the 3 teams scheduled for missions off-world in the next 24 hours and two scheduled 304 departures in the next 72 hours.

 

*96 hours or so.*  Sam glanced at the digital clock which also obligingly told her it was currently 145 minutes into Friday.

 

"Of course, Tuesday.  Come straight in."

 

*Thanks.  Mind if I bring the dogs?*

 

"Just make sure they knock."  Sam paused as she felt Janet move, waiting a moment to check her wife settled before she continued speaking, "anyone else?"

 

*Osgood.  You've not met I don't think.*  

 

"No, not yet," said Sam recognising the name from last week’s events involving UNIT but unable to say anything further as she was not particularly successful at smothering a yawn.

 

*I'll let you go back to sleep Sam, sorry for waking you.*

 

"You're really not Kate.  Safe trip."  Ending the call, Sam had just enough time to return the phone to the bedside table before another phone rang.  Instinctively, she answered it after the first ring as she glanced at Janet who, by some miracle (more often described as exhaustion), was still asleep.

 

"Carter."

 

"Hang on, she's asleep."  Putting her hand over the mouthpiece so that the sound was muffled, although she was certain the officer who had made the call was scrupulously not listening for the next 30 seconds or so, Sam carefully shifted her shoulder and arm, effectively disturbing her wife's 'pillow' enough that Janet roused slightly, moving just enough for Sam to free her arm and use it to gently shake Janet into full wakefulness.

 

"'Mmm?"

 

"Infirmary."  Passing the phone to the now rapidly waking Janet, Sam swiftly kissed her wife's forehead before getting out of bed and going to start the shower.  Since she was already awake, she'd decided she would drive Janet back to the Base and get an early start on the day.  Just as she'd finished her minute-long shower, Janet joined her.

 

"Problem?" Moving on automatic pilot through a routine that they'd perfected in the decade or so when they'd actually been on able to share a bathroom (as opposed to being a galaxy or two apart), Sam used her taller frame to shield Janet from just enough of the spray to enable her to shower without soaking her hair.

 

"SG4 are having complications." Janet, becoming increasingly alert as she shook the last remnants of sleep from her brain, suddenly turned and looked at Sam, "but you were already awake."

 

"By 2 minutes.  My other phone rang."

 

"You're going in?" asked Janet as she reached past Sam and shut off the water.

 

"I'll take you in then do some work," said Sam, accepting the towel Janet passed her and deliberately focusing on toweling her short hair dry enough to 'do'.

 

"Everything ok?" asked Janet, pausing in her quick assembly of their uniforms to scrutinise her partner of almost twenty years (although with time loops and who knew what else it could have been far longer for all they knew) both as lover but also physician, looking for any hints she should be concerned.

 

"I'm driving my wonderful, dedicated Doctor wife back to Base so she can treat her patients and reassure her no doubt terrified staff that they aren't in trouble for waking the big, scary General," teased Sam, tossing her now redundant towel in the direction of the hamper before adding, "although if you don't put some clothes on soon, I might be changing our plans."  Just so there was no chance of Janet misunderstanding her thinking, Sam deliberately enjoyed admiring Janet from head to toe and back up again, noticing the blush that stained her chest and face as her gaze returned to meet amused brown eyes.

 

"Big, flirty General more like," muttered Janet, nevertheless starting to dress, satisfied that whatever had caused Sam to already be awake when her call had come in wasn't currently causing Sam too much stress.

 

"Colonel at this rate..." corrected Sam, extracting her uniform shirt from her wife's still somewhat sleepy grasp, confirming that her decision to drive Janet back in was the right one.

 

"Sorry."

 

"You operating?" asked Sam carefully, knowing if she asked what the specifics of SG4's complications were Janet would, as her Chief Medical Officer, tell her.  However, just because she could ask, didn't mean she always wanted to, and certainly not when still in their bedroom, only half dressed.  

 

"I'm not expecting to, at least, not immediately.  Why?”

 

“Because I can’t bring you a coffee if you’re in the operating theatre,” said Sam simply, stepping into her uniform shoes, wincing slightly as she did so, since this was a newer pair that were not yet fully ‘broken in’: it was hard to think that she was actually missing wearing her boots.

 

“I’m sure someone will have got me a coffee,” dismissed Janet, noticing the wince, “shoes still not right?”

 

“Nope, but I’ll get there.  At least they’re flat,” added Sam, pointedly looking at Janet’s rather taller heels, “and I’m bringing you some coffee, from my office.”

 

“Oh, well, if it’s the General’s coffee…” Stepping into her own shoes, Janet turned to face Sam, each instinctively quickly casting a very trained eye over the other’s uniform to make sure everything was as it should be: whilst there was hardly anyone on base who would have the nerve, nevermind the rank, to criticise either Brigadier General Samantha Carter PhD or Colonel Janet Fraiser MD if they were a little crumpled at 3am, not being appropriately presented was not an option, even if the footwear was far from comfortable at some point during the often inevitable 24 hour duty. “...you really need to go in?” asked Janet, finally studying Sam’s face for any tell-tale signs that all was less right in their corner of the Universe than a couple of hours earlier when she’d fallen asleep.

 

“Now I’m awake, I really ought to go in.”  Sam slipped her arms around Janet’s waist, sighing softly when she felt Janet’s arms mirror her loose hold, the familiar touch helping to ground them both, “we both need to go in,” she said quietly, reminding them of their military duty.  Fleetingly, their lips met in a kiss that, although brief, was another whole conversation between the two lovers, expressing everything they needed to communicate about their love for and trust in each other: there was no suggestion of ‘goodbye’, only ‘see you soon’.  

 

“I’ll set the alarm, can you grab my briefcase?” asked Janet, stepping out of Sam’s embrace after a moment.  It was time for duty.

 

* * *

  


“Thank you Ma’am, Doctor.” Handing their IDs back to Sam, the airman on the outer gate security check snapped sharply to attention as Sam, with a nod and smile of acknowledgment and thanks, put the car back in gear and eased gently forwards, waiting for the heavy gates to open enough for her to drive through.  Once she was a couple of feet past the still saluting airman, she raised the window, shutting out the cold night air.

 

“I’m still not used to that.”

 

“Used to what?” Sam’s quiet comment had interrupted Janet’s mental review of everything she could remember about SG4’s situation and what, depending on their complications, might be her possible courses of action for treatment once she arrived in the infirmary.

 

“Arriving in the same car.  Or leaving in the same car without me being too injured to drive.”  Raising a hand, Sam automatically acknowledged the at attention stance of the airmen who were working the outer gate as she drove them towards the next checkpoint, still holding both their IDs.

 

“I know.  And I was at least here when it was all happening.”  There were still moments, even now, more than four years after the repeal of ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’, when Janet found herself trying to search her peripheral vision for any imperfections or fuzziness that would then indicate that this was a dream or alien induced hallucination, so alien had the idea once been to her of being able to openly acknowledge that the person she shared her heart and soul with was a woman _and_ keep her commission.  She knew for Sam the whole situation had been even more unfamiliar as she had spent much of the time when the possible repeal was being discussed and debated in both the military and media either in command of one of the Daedalus class ships or Atlantis.  Even when she had been on Earth, it had generally been in order to save it from invasion or destruction, so it hadn’t been entirely surprising when it had taken a fair bit of time and convincing for Sam to actually believe it had happened.

 

“Have I apologised again recently for then messing it all up again by becoming your CO?” asked Sam, taking advantage of being the only vehicle on the road and looking across at her wife.

 

“Last Friday I think,” teased Janet, “and it’s not every year you get a Presidential Dispensation as a Valentine’s gift.”

 

“The timing could have been better,” agreed Sam, slowing down as they approached the inner gate check-point, remembering that distinctly unromantic Valentine’s Day two years earlier when she’d been summoned to Washington D.C. to be advised that she was being promoted to Brigadier General and her orders were to take command of the SGC, including her wife’s infirmary.  Thinking back to that day, Sam knew that, theoretically, there had probably been the option for her to decline the promotion and posting, but it had been made very clear that was not an option practically available to her, especially when the matter of her being in command of her wife had already been resolved by the signed Presidential Dispensations that had already been proposed and granted, “who knew carpooling needed so much paperwork?” she joked as she opened her window, ready to hand over their IDs for the next checks, effectively ending their shared reminiscence as they paid attention to the airman on duty at the gate.

 

“Thank you General, Ma’am.”  IDs returned again, another salute acknowledged, Sam drove across the relatively empty parking lot towards the Base’s actual entrance, pleased to be able to shut her window, knowing the cold night air had probably turned her ears red.

 

“Worth it for the parking space though,” teased Janet as Sam pulled into her parking space which, as Base Commander, was as close to the Base Entrance as it was possible to be, such was the privilege of rank.  Sam knew better than to point out that Janet was conveniently ignoring the fact that the immediately adjacent space was reserved, as it had been ever since the early days of regular off world missions, for the SGC Chief Medical Officer: car-pooling saved Janet exactly seven steps.

 

“You go on, I’ll bring you a coffee in a bit,” said Sam, smiling at her wife’s silliness as she turned the engine off, knowing it was only just past 3am and SG4’s need of the CMO took priority over her own desire to turn the car around and drive them both back home.

 

“You not coming in?” Janet paused, her hand on the door handle, looking at Sam in concern.  Whilst it wasn’t unheard of for Sam to drive Janet back to Base in the middle of the night but not go in herself, Sam didn’t normally go to the trouble of putting on her uniform, and it was far too cold a night for Sam to linger on the mountain looking at the stars in just her office Blues and light uniform jacket.

 

“In a minute.  I’m going to go congratulate Airman Jessop on the twins - I saw him on duty at the inner gate.”  And let them know that we’re getting a visit from UNIT in a few hours, thought Sam, which was the true purpose of her visit to the security checkpoint.  Spotting Airman Jessop, who was a very proud father of four week old twin daughters, had saved her having to say she was just going on a no-notice inspection visit, something Janet knew was not exactly Sam’s style of Command, and certainly not on her way into the Base in the early hours of the morning.

 

“Mother and babies were doing great when I saw them at the Academy Clinic earlier this week… just don’t ask him about diaper duty,” suggested Janet before she got out of the car, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she recalled Mrs Jessop’s tales of woe at her husband’s inability to cope with two dirty diapers at once.

 

“Thanks for the tip, Doctor.”  Sam grinned at her wife across the roof of the car as they both automatically adjusted their caps into the correct position, the final step in the process that saw them transition from wives and lovers to fellow officers.

 

“Thank you for the lift, General.”  And, with a final nod from Sam and smile from Janet, they set off in opposite directions as Janet hurried to her patients and Sam to her security team.

  
It was less than an hour since they had been telephoned, and it was the wrong side of dawn, but, for a General and her Chief Medical Officer, the day had already begun, and what a day it would turn out to be.


	5. Time waits for women... and scones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to throw a curveball or two... and watch as the word count explodes. I don't know why I'm surprised, this must be the (n+1)th fandom that my muses have done this to me, where n is an already too large number of fandoms... I should probably start learning from my experiences at some point.
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you're enjoying... I promise everyone will arrive in the same place (and chapter) soonish. To my American readers, I ask that you take Vastra's joke in the spirit it's intended *g*.

“Thank you Parker.”  As ever the dutiful Victorian coachman, Parker kept quiet and merely acknowledged Madame Vastra’s thanks with a dip of his head, a dip that failed to conceal his wince when both of them heard a crash come from somewhere with 13 Paternoster Row.  “Oh dear, it sounds like Strax has dropped something again…” mused Vastra, pausing as she adjusted her veil a fraction.  It was almost, thought Parker as he obediently stood, head still dipped, holding the carriage door open waiting for her to continue, as if she didn’t want to enter her own home.  “...Parker?”

 

“Yes M’m?” As he looked up he realised that Madame’s veil adjustment was not, as he’d assumed it would be, to ensure her Silurian features were obscured, but was instead to ensure he could see her face quite clearly.  The tactically astute Warrior was actually using the proximity of the carriage, the open door and her coachman to obstruct anyone outside of the Paternoster Row household from seeing her face.

 

“I am expecting River Song at any moment, relatively speaking, for it would seem our assistance is requested by a very old friend.  I know my wife will have mentioned it.”

 

“Yes M’m, at ‘ousehold tea this morn’ng M’m.”

 

“Household tea?” Vastra wasn’t familiar with the term, although his phonic pattern, ‘Cockney’ as she’d been taught to call it, whilst the same as her wife’s was in moments of high feeling, was far, far less charming to her ear when used by Parker, “and kindly speak in your usual voice, we are not overheard.”

 

“Yes Madam.”  Vastra’s shoulders relaxed a fraction on hearing her ‘coachman’ use his natural accent which, to her, sounded far closer to the Doctor’s, that is, her first Doctor’s, voice.  “Your wife’s ‘first morning tea’ is perhaps more familiar to you Ma’m?”

 

“Ah.  Yes.  But you call it household tea?” Although not what Vastra had wanted to discuss, she always did enjoy improving her understanding of day-to-day mysteries and it did give her a good reason for not venturing inside quite yet, especially as it was clear that even Parker’s vastly inferior mammal senses were registering another crash.

 

“It’s what everyone calls it, everyone in Service,” Parker paused, working out what level of detail he needed to provide, “that is, everyone who works in houses like Number 13, has a ‘household tea’ in the morning.  It’s when the Butler and Housekeeper sets everyone straight for the day.”

 

“And who is everyone?”  Fascinated, Vastra nearly missed the look of panic that briefly flashed across Parker’s face, “that is, everyone at Number 13?” she qualified, not remotely interested in what constituted a household staff in generic terms.

 

“There’s a few of us,” began Parker, hoping he didn’t look too nervous: whilst he was not in any way scared of Madame Vastra, his day to day duties did not usually involve him talking to her, and certainly not explaining how her wife ran Number 13.   But, as tempting as it might be to suggest Vastra just asked Jenny, he ordered his thoughts and tried to provide an appropriate summary, “apart from Mr Strax and myself, and your wife obviously, the rest of them are only there some days.  This morning we were joined by the the washerwoman, the odd-jobs boy and the errand boys from the butcher, grocer and coal merchant.  The boys and Mr Strax drink milk, not tea.”

 

“Fascinating.  But this was not what I wanted to talk to you about,” recalled Vastra, reminded of the passage of time by the sounding of the hour by Great Tom ringing out from the adjacent Cathedral, “you are packed and prepared to travel?”

 

“Ma’am?”

 

“Clearly you are not.”  Vastra suppressed an urge to sigh, almost hearing Jenny’s chastisement for not being reasonable, “my apologies, of course, you could not have been told, given the company at this ‘household tea’.  I do not expect River Song to arrive with appropriate transportation for everyone and everything, therefore I anticipate requiring the carriage.”

 

“Yes Ma’am.”

 

“And Parker?”

 

“Ma’am?”

 

“If my instincts are correct, you should consider if you wish to return with us to Paternoster Row at the end of our adventure, for I am certain your clearly idiotic Commanders will finally reach the same conclusion regarding your abilities that we, mere residents of the 1890s, have known for quite some time.”

 

“I…” Dumbstruck at this unexpected revelation, Parker finally appreciated why Madame Vastra had lifted her veil for this conversation as, had she not done so, he would have missed the sparkle in her eyes which confirmed that, despite her dry and at times disparaging tone of voice, she was actually in excellent humour and paying him a compliment, admittedly at the expense of most of his colleagues.  “... thank you Ma’am, for the warning.”

 

“Warning?  You misunderstand Parker…” began Vastra, not sure how she’d misspoken, but clearly she’d said something that had not quite meant what she’d thought it had.

 

“With respect Ma’am, I do not misunderstand.  Thank you for warning me that I might not automatically get to resume my posting with you and your wife after this adventure.”  He wasn’t used to describing his duties as adventures but right now it seemed fitting - he could feel his palms tingling in anticipation at the idea of travelling to wherever and whenever it was that Madame Vastra was expecting them to be taken.

 

“You wish to return with us, after the conclusion of our adventure?”

 

“There is no other time or place I would rather serve in Ma’am.  With your permission, it would be my honour to return to this post.”

 

“Of course!  I look forward to us angering your Commanders together.  And now you must pack, for we are headed for America I believe,” said Vastra, dropping her veil over her face in preparation for crossing the pavement to her front door.

 

“You’ll be wanting to pack a teapot Ma’am.”  It was rare for him to speak so freely, but then it seemed that today was the day for rare things to happen to Parker, who otherwise tried to keep to the reasonably straightforward life of the late 19th century London coachman.

 

“An excellent point Mr Parker, although I had hoped the situation would have improved, since we are travelling to a point that I believe is a very great distance from that time in Boston."  They both winced at a third crash, with this one having a distinctive ‘china breaking’ quality to it, “assuming we still have one to pack.  Thank you Parker.”  

* * *

  
  


Standing in the entrance hall of Number 13 Paternoster Row, Madame Vastra considered the three neatly placed trunks which were now obstructing her safe passage through to the kitchen.  Clearly whoever had put the trunks down had either not been concentrating on where they had put them or were overly focused on maintaining a strategic advantage in event of a surprise invasion through the front door.  Given that these were the newer trunks with the neat brass letters identifying them as ‘M.V. & L.F’ and the matching custom-designed oversize brass lifter handles which were positioned in the optimum place for a Butler with advanced nursing training to manhandle their luggage without jeopardising a Sontaran’s spinal health, Vastra took a moment to try and work out what sort of invading attack force Strax was anticipating thwarting with their luggage.

 

“Quick Boy!” Vastra’s consideration of the anticipated battle was interrupted by what sounded like an advancing juvenile dinosaur, “I have trapped the invading…Madame.”

 

“I am invading my own home Strax?”

 

“Umm… the boy...no… your wife told me to put the trunks in the hall as she had declared war on the territory known as Kitch-Hen.  Such a public declaration of strategy leaves the rear vulnerable to attack without adequate defense…OOOH!”  The last, most un-Sontaran-like noise was as a result of Jenny’s dishcloth snapping like a whip across his evidently vulnerable rear.

 

“Madame is not an invading force, and it wasn’t war…”

 

“It wasn’t?” asked Vastra, trying desperately not to look amused at the antics of her wife and, dare she admit, Sontaran friend, although the hints of flour in Jenny’s hair did perhaps indicate otherwise.

 

“The flour never stood a chance!  ‘Ere Strax, where’d you think you’re goin’?  These ‘ere trunks need to be put by the walls and opened for packing like I asked.”

 

“But…” Strax’s protests, feeble at the best of times, died quickly when he caught sight of Jenny’s dishcloth again, “...it will leave us vulnerable to attack,” he grumbled, nevertheless obediently picking up the nearest trunk and easily moving it to the wall.

 

“Attack by whom?” asked Vastra, neatly stepping through the resultant gap, intending to take the opportunity to quickly kiss her wife as she unfastened her coat.

 

“Best not ask,” said Jenny, nimbly stepping back from Vastra so as to not get the smart dress the Silurian had worn in order to go to Scotland Yard covered in the flour that was no doubt clinging to her apron, ignoring the Silurian’s attempt at a pout.  “You can go pack your things now Strax,” she added, seeing that he’d just finished putting down the third trunk.

 

“Who are we invading?” asked Strax excitedly, in much the same way as when he’s consumed sherbet fancies.

 

“No one, we’re visiting, friends,” said Jenny firmly, hoping that he wouldn’t ask anymore questions as, now she thought about it, she didn’t actually know where they were going, but wherever it was, she hoped it would be friendly.

 

“Then I must pack the new grenades!  One cannot be too careful!” declared Strax, heading for his bedroom, making some rather peculiar noises as he went.

 

“Was that…?”

 

“Singing M’am,” said Jenny forcefully, setting off to the kitchen, starting to think about everything she still had to do before they could leave.

 

“Most impressive…” Vastra stood alone in the now empty (but far from quiet) hall for a moment longer, ostensibly listening to Strax as she tasted the air with her tongue, noting the subtle change in the air, before quickly hurrying to catch up Jenny, “...most impressive indeed.”

 

“What is?”

 

“Strax, and those noises…”  said Vastra quickly, stopping just inside the door as she took in the messy room, beginning to understand that her wife might have actually meant she was declaring war on Strax if he stayed in the kitchen, especially when she saw the aggression with which Jenny was now kneading the dough.  Moving swiftly on near silent feet until she was standing immediately behind her wife, she whispered, “...but not as impressive as you, my love,” before starting to press a trail of kisses up Jenny’s neck, making sure that her tongue tickled that particular spot which made Jenny giggle.

 

“Behave, you daft lizard…” laughed Jenny eventually, when even her composure failed in the face of her stubborn lizard’s onslaught, resulting in her kneading slowing and softening.

 

“This is behaving,” mumbled Vastra, “after all, we are married…” she continued, not ceasing her kissing of Jenny’s neck and jaw as she managed to encourage her wife to turn away from the dough and lean into her embrace, “...and stop thinking about my dress.  Flour marks can only enhance the pattern,” she said decisively, before having a second attempt at the slow, tender kiss that said ‘good morning’ and ‘I love you’ which she had tried to give Jenny in the hall on her return.  To her immense relief, this time she was successful.

 

“Good morning my love…”

 

“Is it?” Although staying within Vastra’s embrace, Jenny was clearly cross and agitated as her shoulders were tense again and, flour marks forgotten, her fingers were nervously pleating the black lace trim of Vastra’s dress front.

 

“What troubles you, my love?”

 

“There’s so much to do!”

 

“And there is ample time for us to do it, together.”

 

“But Professor Song could be here at any moment!  And we’re not ready!”  In a rare moment of insight about when to dissemble rather than be strictly truthful, Vastra decided not to let on that River was already in the drawing room.  Instead, she held Jenny more firmly, trying to convey to her uncharacteristically anxious and normally unflappable wife that she had no reason for panic, and waited until she felt Jenny’s body relax and her breathing calm.

 

“There are few rules that need to be remembered when involved in time travel, and most of them only need to be remembered by the person controlling the time flow.  But there is one rule that everyone should always remember and usually forgets.  What matters is not when you leave, but when you arrive.  We will leave only when we are ready to leave, and not a moment before then.” Vastra’s voice, always clear and confident at the best of times, was now gentle and kind, having a further calming effect on Jenny whilst still managing to be clearly audible to anyone who happened to be hovering in the downstairs rooms, including newly arrived, eavesdropping time travelers.

 

After a few moments of quiet stillness in the warm kitchen, Vastra felt Jenny move so loosened her grasp, sensing from how her wife was moving that the panic had passed, and calm had returned.

 

“Better my love?”

 

“Much.  Maybe you’re not such a daft lizard after all…” teased Jenny, stroking a floury fingertip down her wife's central crown ridge, enjoying the low rumbling sound she made in response to the touch: Jenny was clearly determined to take Vastra at her word, and get ready at her pace, and not in haste.

“...the Inspector alright?”

 

“Not really - I do not think he looks forward to my absence but he would never say.  But that at least means my services will be accepted again on our return, even if my presence is never truly welcomed by the majority.”

 

“‘Ow long you say you’re away for?” asked Jenny, not stopping her caress, knowing that despite Vastra’s stoicism on the matter, it did hurt her to be used but rarely appreciated by the Yard as the thanks she did receive never felt completely sincere or genuine. But then, that was men with positions of authority for you.

 

“Until April - I have no desire to hunt criminals this winter.”

 

“But that’s months away!  Are we going to be away that long?”

 

“Yes, one way or another.  No matter how long we are away with the Doctor, I thought we could have a holiday somewhere afterwards.  And we can return to this house sooner, I just will not entertain the Yard until April.  Have I done wrong my love?”

 

Jenny’s response was swift, eloquent, and held both ladies’ attention for several minutes.  

 

 

As the kiss ended, they stood, foreheads resting lightly together, everyone else forgotten.  Eventually however, the moment was broken with a distant thud, reminding them of Strax, whose packing would no doubt be complete soon and their friend would therefore be reappearing with invasion plans for some new enemy unless otherwise distracted.

 

“...what do you think we should pack?”

 

“Swords…”

 

“Obviously.” Even though Jenny didn’t say it aloud, Vastra’s slight change of green indicated she had clearly heard the ‘daft lizard’ sentiment that went with her wife’s response, prompting her to hurry on with her list.

 

“One socially appropriate dress for each of us to wear when we return to this house, but otherwise I think my warrior’s uniform and our  trouser outfits.  The Tardis will not mind.”

 

“Me neither,” agreed Jenny, who thought Vastra looked wonderful in anything (and nothing), but particularly enjoyed the sight of her lover in her Silurian Uniform.  “Anythin’ else?”

 

“The second best tea service.” She might be a lizard woman from the dawn of time but she was also a well-to-do resident of Victorian London, and tea was never to be taken lightly.

 

“Second best?”

 

“I would not trust the Americans with the best service, even if they are in the future!”

 

“Quite right Vastra.”  The new voice startled Jenny, who hadn’t realised they had company, but the fact that Vastra didn’t react did at least help to keep her surprise to a containable level.

 

“Professor Song,” greeted Vastra calmly, inclining her head in acknowledgement but making no move to release her hold on Jenny - there was a time and a place for Victorian manners and, between two people as adrift from their own times as River and her, such manners were anachronistic.

 

“So formal!  Let’s go with River for this adventure as it’s just us girls.  Hello Sweetie…” The rumbling hiss from Vastra caused Jenny to blush and would have made many reconsider what they’d just said, but then they would have been a lesser woman than River Song. “...are those scones you’re making?”

 

“Pie crust,” corrected Jenny automatically as she turned around enough to be able to see their visitor who, despite her sudden appearance and very un-Victorian attitudes, was, like her wife, neatly dressed in the fashions of the day, “but I can make scones if you like?” offered Jenny, deciding to further test Vastra’s earlier statement that with time travel departure time was irrelevant as what only mattered was when you arrived.

 

“Why are you making pie crust?” asked Vastra, attempting to ignore River’s rather disproportionate response to Jenny’s offer of scones for the moment, and finally taking time to wonder why exactly her wife and now, thanks to their embrace, her dress and crown-scales were covered in flour.

 

“So we ‘ave pies for the journey and the Doctor when we see ‘im.  That and I don’t like the waste,” added Jenny primly, trying not to think about what would have happened to the meat, vegetables and other fresh produce that would have been left in the larder if her wife had been solely responsible for shutting up the house before they left for the journey.  “But if you’re wanting to take a tea service, I’d best make some things to go with it too.”

 

“Like scones?” repeated River, moving round the kitchen with a rustle of silk to stand right next to Jenny on one side whilst Vastra, quickly studying the contents of the table asked, “game pie?” only for the two alien women to glare at each other in an attempt to get the other to yield, causing Jenny to laugh.

 

“Oh you daft things!”  only to find herself on the receiving end of two very different but equally expressive looks, prompting her to quickly formulate a plan.  “This ‘ere is pie crust, and yes, I’m making a game pie, and there’s bread and cakes in the oven already, but I can teach you to make scones if you like Pr… River?” Jenny stumbled a bit over calling their visiting friend by her first name, but River hadn’t noticed, positively radiating enthusiasm at the idea of learning how to make scones.

 

“Where to we start?  What do I do?  Can I wear an apron?” before completing a full pirouette as she turned around at such speed, clearly undecided about which direction she wanted to head in first, causing Jenny to chuckle and even Vastra felt herself smiling at the almost childlike behaviour, only to sober when she recalled what little she knew of her friend’s early years at the hands of the Silence.

 

“We start with you washing them hands and putting on that apron,” said Jenny, gesturing to another apron that was hanging over the handle of the stove’s oven door, trying not to think about what that silk dress would cost to replace if it became dirty.

 

“And my task my love?” asked Vastra, consciously forcing her thoughts back to the present and away from River’s childhood past (or was it future?) before her crown ridges hurt, knowing that she did not want to attempt trying to cook again:  for one thing, her pride had barely recovered from the last time when her food was declared less edible than a Sontaran battle ration.

 

“Packing?” suggested Jenny cautiously, wondering how her wife would react.

 

“I shall pack the swords, then check Strax’s luggage for booby traps and offensive weapons.”

 

“Good thinking.  And you might check where he’s hidden his sweets that he doesn’t think I know about,” added Jenny, resuming her kneading, relieved that a plan of sorts was emerging and she wouldn’t have to cope with three aliens in her kitchen… two was her absolute limit, and even then normally only if one of them was Vastra on her best behaviour (which meant touching or investigating nothing, wife included).

 

“And how do you propose I do that?” asked Vastra, her head canted to one side as she considered this seemingly impossible task.

 

“I’m sure the Great Detective will think of something…” quipped River, clearly ready for baking action with her apron on and dress sleeves fastened up near her elbows, “...once you’re gluten free perhaps?” she suggested cheekily, seeing the flour smudges on the Silurian’s crown, face, neck and dress, in response to which there was a rather loud and impressive growl that seemed to emanate from Jenny whose kneading became, if anything, rather more forceful.  Confused, River looked at Vastra for some explanation.

 

“That, my dear…” drawled Vastra lazily as only a happily married lizard woman could, “...is ape for ‘that’s my wife you’re…” a sequence of hisses, clicks and sibilant syllables followed which Jenny recognised as Vastra speaking in Silurian and, whilst she had no idea what it meant, she could hazard a reasonable guess her virtue and honour as a married woman were being eloquently defended.

 

After a moment’s silence, during which River's face had rapidly gone through a fascinating range of colours between bright red and ash grey before returning to normal, Jenny might have been curious to know exactly what Vastra had said, especially as a short sequence of different hisses and clicks from River clearly signaled a truce between these two fiercely independent women and an unusual retreat by the normally irrepressible time traveling archaeologist.

 

“If you’ve finished gossiping, there’s cooking and packing to be done?” suggested Jenny finally.

 

“Quite right my love, thank you.”  And with a nod to River and a wink to her wife, Vastra swept out of the kitchen, hoping she had enough time to clean up and change before Strax destroyed anything.

 

“Now, fruit or plain?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“For your scones.  Fruit or plain? Wait, why am I asking, you’re going to want both, aren’t you?”

 

“You know me so well sweetie… Jenny.” River corrected herself quickly following Vastra's rather romantic warning.

 

“What am I going to do with the pair of you?” muttered Jenny, before picking up her rolling pin and, as she started to roll out the pastry for her pies, adding "you’ll need to get the butter and currants from the larder....” which saw River promptly head for the corner she nodded in, eager and willing to start her lesson.

As she continued with her impromptu cooking lesson, Jenny couldn’t help but grin at the strangeness of her day so far as she rolled out pastry in the kitchen of the house she shared with her lizard wife from the dawn of time  whilst teaching their time-travelling friend to make scones and prayed the only Sontaran Butler-Nurse wouldn’t destroy anything...

 

How little she knew about what the rest of the day would bring…

 

 


	6. Science Leads on a Lovely Day

 

When he’d decided to apply for the ROTC scholarship programme, Jake Spirelli had not really considered what that meant for his future.  That’s not to say he hadn’t taken the decision carefully, for he had been extremely diligent and thorough in his research about the ROTC programmes on offer at various colleges and what it meant in terms of longer-term service commitment.  So, as a result of all his research, he hadn’t been that surprised when, at the end of his time in ROTC, he’d been assigned to a unit and shipped out to Afghanistan fairly quickly.  Four years later, and 15 months after he’d been seriously injured out there on another tour, there were still days when he couldn’t quite wrap his head around how, as a result of that decision to take the USMC ROTC scholarship, he’d ended up _here_.

 

The ringing of his desk phone shook him from his momentary lapse of concentration and brought him rapidly back to the present.

 

“General Carter’s office, Lt Spirelli speaking.”  Listening intently, he was glad that there was currently no one sat waiting to see the General as it meant no one saw his jaw drop in shock before he quickly pulled himself back together.

 

“Thanks for the heads up…” he was about to continue when he heard the distinctive sound of boots striking the concrete floor of the corridor outside the office as a group of personnel came to a halt. “...I think they’ve just arrived.  I’ll let the General know.”  By the time the airmen assigned to stand guard in the General’s outer office had assumed their posts facing each other, two either side of the door into the General’s office and either side of the door from the outer office to the corridor (where there were more airmen posted guard), Spirelli was standing and moving towards the General’s office door.  After a final glance to make sure the guard was in position, he knocked briskly on the door.

 

“Enter!”  Looking up from her work, glad of the distraction from the latest Pentagon report request, Sam glanced at the clock, seeing that her morning had run away from her and it was just past 1000 hours, which was definitely late morning if you’d started on paperwork just before 4am.  On the plus side, that also meant she could delegate trying to work out what this report request was actually for, and moreover, do so with a clear conscience.

 

“Sorry to disturb you General…”

 

“No problem Jake.  Let me guess, UNIT’s at the gate, SFs are in the hallway and that’s my CMO on the phone?” she finished, pointing at the phone that had started ringing as she spoke.

 

“Topside Gate, yes Ma’am,” clarified Jake, not bothering to waste any time wondering how she knew what he’d been going to tell her as, despite everything unbelievable and truly alien he’d come across since he was posted here, he’d never seen her surprised once, although, now he thought about it, UNIT coming through the Stargate may have just caused her to blink, maybe.

 

“Great, thanks.” As she reached for the phone, he pulled himself to attention, intending to vacate her office now she knew the guard was posted, only to see the particular wave of her hand which he’d come to learn was her signal to stay put and assume whatever position was the most comfortable for him.  

 

“Carter… hello Dr Fraiser.”  It wasn’t very ‘General like’, but Sam couldn’t help but flash a quick smile of triumph at getting 100% with her guesses at her aide, who, not anticipating that her conversation on the phone would be a long one, had remained standing at ease.

 

“General, Corporal Hurn has just arrived with a guard for me and the Infirmary,” said Janet lightly, watching as the Corporal efficiently distributed his team throughout the infirmary, pleased to see that the airmen were moving quietly and respectfully around her staff and patients.  She had no doubt that, were it necessary, the security team would do their job, whatever it was,  but until that time, they did at least remember they were in a place where healers were trying to do their job, “anything I need to be aware of Ma’am?” It was a perfectly correct question, adhering to all appropriate conventions regarding military decorum and respect for a senior officer, but Sam could clearly hear the implied question from her wife asking what the hell was going on.

 

“Kate Stewart’s on her way, just cleared the outer gate topside.”  Sam waited to see how her Chief Medical Officer responded, knowing that she’d find out from the response whether Janet was in her office, the main infirmary or, and this would be singularly unpleasant for Sam if this were the case, on a speakerphone in an operating theatre.

 

“That was why you were awake?”  Sam breathed a sigh of relief - Janet’s response told her she was at best in her office, at worst in the main infirmary but not surrounded by her staff.

 

“Yeah.  Kate called to warn me.  Sorry about the guard, if it’s any consolation I’ve got one too.”  Sam knew how much Janet hated having security guards in the infirmary for any reason, but hated when the guards were assigned to protect the CMO even more as it immediately affected how she interacted with patients.

 

“This isn’t just a social call then?” mused Janet, following Sam’s tone and allowing herself another question as Sam’s wife.

 

“No.”  As much as Sam might have wanted to take a few minutes to just talk to her best friend and partner about this latest dose of craziness, there just wasn’t the time to be ‘Sam’ and ‘Janet’, in fact, glancing again at the wall clock, there was barely time to be CO and CMO.  “Can you come to my office please Doctor?”

 

“Yes Ma’am.  Is there a situation the Infirmary should be prepared for?” asked Janet, switching immediately back to protocol and standing up so she could look out of her office into the infirmary and start considering her options for moving patients if necessary.  Of everything she’d been thinking this could have been the start of, and her top twenty mental list of possibles started with three different types of alien infiltration and four different ways the planet could potentially be destroyed before Colorado Springs saw sunrise again, not to mention the more earthbound possibles such as terrorism or pandemic, what she heard was probably the one thing she’d not thought of.

 

“Gallifrey.”

 

“I’m on my way General.”  

 

“Thanks.”  Hanging up the phone, Sam grinned at Jake, “ready to have some fun Jake?”

 

“With respect General, I was already having fun.” He didn’t know what Gallifrey was - linguistically, it wasn’t consistent with any of the alien languages he was becoming increasingly familiar with.  Although he’d only been assigned to the General as her aide for the last five months, in that time he’d learnt enough to understand that even if only half of the stories he’d heard about his boss during her time on SG1 were true, if the General thought it was going to be ‘fun’ he wasn’t going to try to guess what was about to happen, because no matter how hard he’d try, he’d still not be in the right league, never mind ballpark.

 

“Excellent!” Sam grinned a very un-General-like grin as she stood up, clearly planning on going somewhere.  Pausing with her hand on the still closed door, she chewed on her bottom lip briefly, before looking back at Jake, “consider yourself cleared Jake.”

 

“Cleared Ma’am?”

 

“Gallifrey. You are number…” Sam did a quick mental headcount, “5 of current SGC on-base personnel with that, and the only US Marine.  And you don’t have the authority to make the list up to 6 or 2.”  It was said lightly and with a smile on her face, but the tone was clear.  Gallifrey, whatever it was, was a secret Command’s very big secret.

 

“Yes Ma’am.”  Snapping to attention as fast as he could without throwing himself off balance, Jake watched a clearly re-energised General Carter leave, presumably to go to the Control Room before carefully walking back to his desk, pleased he’d managed to complete the instinctive military courtesy without wobbling: he’d have to let his physical therapist know at his next appointment, assuming he made it.  Something told him that the General’s definition of ‘fun’ wasn’t going to be quite the same as his…

 

* * *

 

“Kate?”  Osgood had stopped counting how many times she’d been a passenger in a big black vehicle with tinted windows at the centre of a convoy about nine months after joining UNIT, which was about eight and a half months longer than most people kept track.  This time was different though, and the differences made Osgood nervous and prone to whispering.   
  


“Mmm?”  Kate found it very unsettling being sat on the right hand side of the car - yes, she was still diagonally across from the driver, but he wasn’t Jenkins and wasn’t sat on the right hand side.  She’d found the whole experience sufficiently disorientating that, when the driver had tried to talk to her, she’d been forced to start pointedly checking emails on her Blackberry, an activity she’d quickly become absorbed in.   
  


“Why do our armed guards have armed guards?”  Despite her father’s military career, Osgood had never been particularly interested in that side of his life and had had to work hard at maintaining some degree of composure when surrounded by heavily armed soldiers, but she got there.  She was, however, not that comfortable with a duplicate set…  “And who are they guarding?”  Actually, realised Osgood, not liking the thought as soon as she’d had it, it was usually UNIT’s prerogative to surround someone else’s armed guard, so who was entitled to surround UNIT’s soldiers?     
  


“Who what?”  Kate looked up from her phone, which had just told her that her groceries had not been delivered because she was not at home to receive them, taking a moment to realise that whatever Osgood had just asked was causing her to start wheezing.  “Inhaler?” prompted Kate automatically, reaching into her own pocket for the spare one she’d taken to keeping there for the occasions when Osgood was separated from her lab coat, which was where her main inhaler seemed to stay.  

 

It was only as Osgood took the second lungful of the medication that Kate registered that Osgood was not wearing her lab coat, because Osgood hadn’t been wearing her lab coat when the Doctor had rung because, faced with unseasonably warm November sunshine and a stuffy Tower, they’d been eating lunch outside.   
  


“Thanks...”  Feeling a little more in charge of her own respiration again, Osgood returned the inhaler to Kate.   
  


“Where is your lab coat?”   
  


“What? Oh, the Black Archive...”  Osgood repositioned her glasses and checked the stripes on her scarf were aligned.  She’d been absorbed in something really rather fascinating and failed to keep track of the time, only realising she’d left her lab coat behind when she was almost at the surface.   
  


“And your inhaler?”  Experience had taught Kate over the years that Osgood’s characteristic predictability did not eliminate all potential for spontaneity, and there was a chance that Osgood had abandoned her inhaler somewhere else.   
  


“In my lab coat.”  Osgood caught her lower lip between her teeth as she reviewed what else might therefore be temporarily archived back at the Tower...because given who had travelled to America with them, whatever was there wasn’t going to be easily retrieved until they returned, unless someone went from Geneva to London.  “Along with my house keys...”  Osgood thought for a moment before shrugging dismissively, deciding that she didn’t really need that notebook or pen either, and she had her handkerchief for when her glasses became dirty. “Oh well, unless you steal them…”  The roar of the escorting motorbikes as they overtook them caught her attention, reminding her of her original question and her nervousness, making her start to ramble, “...the thief isn’t going to know what they’ve stolen.  And you wouldn’t be a burglar, well, technically you’d be a trespasser, but, that is to say…”   
  


“You asked me a question?” interrupted Kate, trying hard to not show any amusement on hearing Osgood’s ramble, resulting in her sounding rather fiercer than she’d meant to, although at least her tone meant the too-chatty driver didn’t start talking again..   
  


“Nevermind,” mumbled Osgood, reacting to Kate’s tone and failing to see the blonde’s expression as instead, she was already studying the creases in her cord trousers, cross with herself for interrupting the UNIT Head’s concentration.   
  


“Sorry…”  The warmth in Kate’s tone was subtle, but distinct enough for Osgood to hear it and her fingers to stop smoothing the fabric wrinkles.  “...I didn’t mean to bark.”  It wasn’t Kate’s style at the best of times, nevermind when in a semi-private conversation with Osgood, but Osgood wasn’t the only one feeling slightly off-balance from the differences.   “What was your question?  I was distracted by my email…about the groceries.”  Shoving her phone in her pocket, Kate leant back in her seat and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, automatically noting how the two sets of armed guards were interwoven around their car, hoping her undivided attention and slightly more relaxed body language would be enough to stop Osgood having another attack, although the temperature and altitude were probably going to make it impossible to avoid.   
  


“Yesterday was Thursday.  When we left the plane, we had a UNIT escort.  Since we came through the checkpoint we’ve acquired another escort.  Who are they guarding you from?” In her own mind, Osgood was under no illusion - next to Kate Stewart, as far as UNIT was concerned, she was disposable and replaceable, one of a handful of Senior Scientists, each of whom led a team of scientists that could at any time be reshuffled and reorganised to produce another Senior Scientist as and when necessary.  But the Chief Scientific Officer?  Not only was Kate Stewart an incredibly able and brilliant scientist in her own right, but she was someone who, when faced with an impossible situation, became a force of nature that, as the Head of UNIT in the UK, was able to bring anyone and everyone together to do what she needed them to do, even the Doctor.  Individually, the Chief Scientific Officer and the UK UNIT Head were posts vital to the success of UNIT and Earth, but together?  Together, in the guise of Kate Stewart...Troop took their security responsibility incredibly seriously, so what prompted the second set of guards?   
  


“Ah, of course." If yesterday was Thursday, that explained the groceries problem. "The second escort?” checked Kate, making sure she’d followed Osgood’s question.   
  


“Yes.  They’re even less… identifiable than our, I mean your one,” concluded Osgood, deciding finally that it wasn’t the heavily armed soldiers whose features were obscured behind Kevlar helmets and goggles that were making her feel uneasy, but that she couldn’t spot any identifying markings on their black combat uniforms.  At least the UNIT soldiers had their UNIT badges, which, small as they were, did provide something of a reassurance to her that they were on the same side as she was.   
  


“They’re from Stargate Command.  It’s the protocol - the same would happen if General Carter came to UNIT.”  Kate rubbed the back of her neck with her hand, trying to remember the timing of the most recent protocol review, which was….ah, yes, that explained it.   
  


“The same? Oh, you mean there’d be a UNIT escort and a Stargate Command escort?”   
  


“Yes.  It’s because of the…”  Mindful that this wasn’t one of the Tower’s Land Rovers, and the driver wasn’t Jenkins, Kate chose her words with care.  “...different aliens.”  Kate wasn’t being deliberately vague, it was just going to be easier to explain it all later, and even easier if she wasn't the one having to do the explaining.   
  


“Oh.”  Osgood didn’t quite know what more to say to that, not because she didn’t have any questions to ask but because she didn’t know which question to ask first.  As she tried to work out what aspect of ‘different aliens’ she wanted to work through with Kate first, Osgood became aware of the driver’s attention becoming increasingly focused on them rather than the road, and that was rather unsettling, prompting Osgood to change her mind again.

“Ma’am?” __   
  


“Yes?” Kate, who had been looking out at the passing mountain landscape that, at higher altitudes, was showing signs of snow coverage,  turned back to look at Osgood who, for whatever reason, was clearly trying to stick to the ‘textbook’ behaviours usually associated with an assistant and all-round right-hand woman, rather than just being Osgood. __   
  


“Why are we here?” __   
  


“I told you, didn’t I?” Kate frowned as she cast her mind back to being saved from a thoroughly depressing attempt at a cheese sandwich by the Doctor’s call when she thought she’d explained… “Yes, I remember, the Doctor’s call - the Tardis needs a service.”  She was tired, the long day across multiple timezones not helping her think at her usual speed, still unsettled from the travelling.   
  


“Yes Ma’am, you did.  But you… you didn’t explain why we’ve come here, to the SGC.  Isn’t the Doctor well, umm, isn’t he ours?” Having finally got through asking what was her most pressing question, she began nervously adjusting her scarf and glasses, trying to keep her hands busy and her breathing calm, which now she knew she didn't have her inhaler with her, was easier thought than done, even before she remembered why she was without her inhaler.   
  


“Use your inhaler, I’m sure Janet, Dr Fraiser, can give you another one,” encouraged Kate gently, “...better?” Osgood nodded.  “As for your question… we’re here because the Doctor needs our help, and he’s never exactly been ours, more like we’ve been his...” mused Kate, remembering flashes of memory from when she’d overheard her father talking in his study to his friend ‘the Doctor’ who only came by late at night and was the only person who managed to open the study door without making it squeak; with hindsight, it was obvious - the Doctor never actually opened the study door.   
  


“Help?  With what?  And why do we have to come to the SGC?” repeated Osgood, starting to forget her nerves and instead started to worry a bit as, compared to what most of UNIT were familiar with when in the presence of the Chief Scientific Officer, Kate was having a bit of a woolly day, although to be fair to her, what with the time zones, she had been up for… longer than it was polite point out. __   
  


“Hmm? Oh, the Tardis service and MOT.  We’ll help him with that - did you know we’re an MOT test centre at UNIT?  I have the authority to issue MOT certificates, strange really, when you think about it…” Kate lapsed into silence, a silence Osgood respected only because she knew all too well that when Kate had that look on her face, there was no point trying to talk to her until she’d stopped thinking about whatever it was she was thinking about; even the Prime Minister knew that now, although it had taken two if not three alien ‘events’ more than everyone else would have liked for her to realise, although for a politician, that was actually not that slow...     
  


The familiar but slightly uncomfortable silence stretched over the whole vehicle and lasted for the remainder of their journey to the next checkpoint, a checkpoint that they were politely but firmly informed would be the point at which their vehicles stayed, with the parking lot to be crossed on foot.  UNIT armed guards were one thing the SGC seemed to be just about comfortable admitting, but UNIT armoured SUVs were clearly a security threat too far.  As they walked the last few yards to the soldiers manning the actual entrance to the underground base, the cold wind that carried with it a suggestion that a mid-Autumn snowfall might be in their near future, Kate looked up at the sky, seeing only gathering clouds that fortunately looked most likely to herald a snowstorm rather than a cybermen storm. __   
  


“Kate?” Concerned, Osgood backtracked to where Kate had stopped to sky-gaze and would therefore have fallen behind the rest of the group of heavily armed soldiers had they not immediately separated into two groups, with one continuing to escort Osgood while the other had stopped with Kate. __   
  


“Hmm?” Kate looked across at Osgood, noticing she’d disrupted their progress out of the wind and, with as close to a sheepish smile as a Lethbridge-Stewart ever got, resumed walking across the parking lot towards the base entrance proper, “...sorry.  Wool-gathering.”   
  


“Everything alright?” Osgood was now officially nervous - why was she getting a sense that Kate, as either the Chief Scientific Officer or the UK UNIT Head, didn’t actually know what was going to happen?  Admittedly, considering their day job was basically being ready to work their way through situations which hadn’t been expected, couldn’t be anticipated and were impossible to predict, not knowing what was going to happen wasn’t a new experience for them.  In fact, in a weird upside-down sort of way concluded Osgood, that meant that they actually always did know what was going to happen: as long as your level of detail was large enough, and your planning was rough enough, the impossibly uncertain became a highly probable certainty.  So what was different now? __   
  


“‘Everything’ is never ‘alright’ Osgood,” chided Kate humorously, instinctively standing taller once more, squaring shoulders she hadn’t been conscious of slumping, transforming herself back to the ‘Kate Stewart’ her team knew and expected to see in moments before the impossibly uncertain became reality, resulting in the entire UNIT team, who hadn’t exactly been slouching or dithering, also seem to stand with spines a fraction stiffer and chins a little higher, “but I do know one thing.”   
  


“Ma’am?”  Osgood reverted to the most formal form of address when she was conscious that, in response to Kate’s spine stiffening, the members of Troop forming their protective guard had also stood a little stiffer, looked a little sharper, seemed a little deadlier.    
  


“Science Leads...” With another grin that immediately made Osgood nervous - she knew that grin, Kate headed straight for the SGC entrance and the final security check that would get her out of this really rather irritating wind that Vastra would no doubt hate.     
  


It was odd, thought Osgood, as she and the rest of the accompanying UNIT soldiers rushed to catch up with their boss and leader, her lungs starting to burn and her stomach starting to knot… she was definitely feeling nervous now...and that made her feel much better.   
  


“Where does Science lead us this time Ma’am?”  It wasn’t a question Osgood needed to ask for herself, content now to just follow Kate on whatever adventure she was about to find for them, but there was something in the way the soldiers keep glancing at each other, sharing rapid hand signals and nods that Osgood sort of understood that suggested the soldiers would appreciate hearing Kate’s answer.  ‘Science Leads’ had been Kate’s mantra during the early part of her time at the Tower, when she’d had to face down a wounded military whose only real desire was to hit back at anyone or anything that got in their way, whether they knew where they were going or not.  Over the years, they’d healed and calmed, still ready and able to fight and attack, but now had a better understanding of what they were trying to protect and defend, and a confidence in their abilities that meant they now had a small amount of patience and the presence of mind to listen when the scientists had a plan.   
  
“I have no idea…” Kate looked back at the sky which had finally decided it was going to snow, big, wet blobs of snow, “...but I think we picked a lovely day for it!”

  
Osgood and the rest of the UNIT Troop who had travelled with them from London couldn’t help but copy their boss' smile when they heard that phrase again.  And Osgood, studying Kate closely, realised she wasn’t nervous anymore - because she recognised it as an indicator that, for whatever reason, something had 'clicked' for her boss, who was now ready.  Kate Stewart, divorced mother of two, keen gardener and exceptional bridge player was now ready, ready to take on the Cybermen, Master and anything else that the whole of space and time decided to throw at them.   
  
It would only be on their return journey back to London, after all of what hadn’t yet happened was over, that Osgood would finally realise that Kate had never actually answered her question about why they were at the SGC and hadn’t stayed in London.  It would never occur to her that the reason Kate hadn’t answered the question was because, at that point, she didn’t know why.   
  
But that was in the future and, since it wasn’t a fixed point, it may yet never happen.  In the present however, one thing was perfectly clear: science was leading, but with a hell of a lot of firepower as backup... just in case....


	7. Time for the Scenic Route...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take a moment to double check the tags and spoiler warning - I've made a couple of adjustments since I posted the last chapter in light of how the story is now going to pan out. Changes to note are:
> 
> \- this story now carries a slight Dr Who spoiler warning for the Series 9 two-parter "The Zygon Invasion" and "The Zygon Inversion", however if you have seen the trailers/any of the promo material you know all you need to know :-)
> 
> \- this story now includes a 3rd pairing - Kate Stewart/Osgood (still f/f) 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and thanks to American readers for continuing to indulge me (and Vastra) with the joke.
> 
> Chapter specific disclaimer - if you think you spot another 1960s British sci-fi/animation popular culture reference, you're quite correct and won't be surprised to know they belong to other people and I'm only borrowing them for a brief moment for no money, only a smile.

“Dr Fraiser.  The General…”

  
“...is right behind you,” said Sam, coming back into her outer office, interrupting Jake’s explanation, “this is cosy,” she added pointedly, raising an eyebrow in his direction, noting that, with her arrival, the total number of people in her outer office was now 9, 6 more than it would have been if UNIT had not been on the base and rather more than was comfortable given the size of the room.

 

“Yes Ma’am,” agreed Jake, relieved when he saw the various airmen on security detail stepping aside so that the General could actually take more than 2 steps into her own outer office.

 

“I’m sure you can find a solution before our visitors arrive Lieutenant,” suggested Sam pointedly, feeling slightly bad for singling him out but, off the top of her head, she could not remember the name of any of the airmen, as she gestured for Janet to proceed her into her office proper.

 

“Yes Ma’am.”  By his rough estimate, Jake knew he had maybe two minutes before Kate Stewart arrived with even more escorting security, which was barely time to even work out who he had to agree a solution with, nevermind work it out, but pointing that out  was not going to help.  

* * *

  
  


“How mad are you?” asked Sam the moment the door was shut, protecting them from curious ears.

 

“Pardon?” Confused, Janet turned so she could see Sam, unprepared for the question.

 

“About me not saying anything, earlier.”

 

“I’m not mad,” promised Janet, smiling at her clearly nervous wife, “you know sometimes I think you forget you’ve got stars on your shoulders,” she teased, although her point, about Sam being a Brigadier-General whilst she was still a Colonel was a serious but familiar one.

 

“Forget you’ve not got stars more like,” grumbled Sam, trying to distract Janet from her blushing face.

 

“Which is very sweet,” acknowledged Janet, knowing Sam to be telling the truth.  As far as Janet was concerned, the fact that she could not easily be promoted above Colonel was a minor irritant that only really caused issues on the rare occasions she came across senior officers away from the Mountain - she was too experienced and had too much of a reputation as the ‘Napoleonic Power Monger’ for anyone even loosely associated with the SGC or Academy to not fall into line - not to mention the fact that no one was a real challenge after Jack O’Neill and Apophis.  Furthermore, since she’d never had any ambition to be the Chief of the Medical Corps, she had never felt that she would ever be promoted to General and therefore did not begrudge the fact that, despite being promoted to Major, Lieutenant Colonel and full Colonel within a matter of months of her wife, now, more than two years after Sam’s promotion to General, she was still a Colonel, “and reassuring.”

 

“Reassuring?” That wasn’t what Sam had expected her wife to say, “not stupid?”

 

“If you’ve time to be sweet then Kate Stewart’s clearly not come to tell us her aliens are about to end the world as we know it.”

 

“Not today.  And it’s more likely to be space and time if they do.”

 

“Space and time what?”  It was Janet’s turn to be the confused one.

 

“That ends.  Kate’s aliens generally mess around with time - I’m amazed she doesn’t get more headaches…”

* * *

  
  


“This is giving me a headache.”

 

“Ma’am?” Osgood was concerned - her boss rarely complained or admitted to any sort of frailty, and never with people in earshot.

 

“This.”  Kate gestured expansively as they turned around into yet another seemingly indistinguishable grey corridor.  “It’s like the Tube, only without the adverts,” she said, shoving her hand back into her trouser pocket, relieved that it had been some minutes now since Osgood had reached for her inhaler.  Kate was hoping that now they were back indoors and underground (which was weirdly familiar, despite the greyness) she would relax a little bit more.  Depending how long it took for the Doctor to arrive, she might even get as far as Osgood going back to using her name rather than ‘Ma’am-ing’ her every 2 minutes.

 

“Not everyone can have your office,” observed Osgood mildly, self-consciously adjusting her scarf as she waited for Kate’s response, “and when did you last travel on the tube?” she muttered, risking a sneaky half glance at her, finding it easier to ignore the security escort now they were indoors and not wearing those bug-like goggles - there was something about not being able to see their eyes that always made her extra nervous: at least she no longer got hiccups when she saw the guns.

 

“It does have rather more character,” pondered Kate thoughtfully, glad of the security escort if only to save them the embarrassment of getting lost, “and last Friday.”

 

“Last Friday what?”

 

“I took the tube,” Kate saw Osgood frown as she tried to work out what had been different on Friday, only for Kate to realise that, now she thought about it, the morning she was thinking of hadn’t been Friday, “you made me late?” she added, inexplicably pleased when she saw Osgood blush for a moment - clearly she hadn’t quite expected Kate actually answering the tube question.

 

“That’s one way to put it, about your office.“

 

“You disagree?” Kate was amused - she loved Osgood’s dry sense of humour and would never admit to deliberately trying to prolong their random conversations just to be able to enjoy it.

 

“Shiny, sparkly…I think the Crown Jewels are more than just ‘character’,” Osgood shrugged, paying close attention as they turned another corner, confirming they were following the red line on the floor not the green or blue one. “... and it was last Tuesday,” she corrected, smiling as she remembered that, yes,  she did keep Kate in the shower for longer than hygiene strictly justified, but Kate had to take responsibility for being in the shower in the first place, “and so not my fault!” she grumbled good-naturedly, remembering they were not alone just in time to stop herself sticking her tongue out at her 'boss'.  That would not be a good impression to make, although judging by that smirk, she’d not been quick enough for Kate not to guess what she’d been going to do.

 

“I just hope they remember to turn the hologram off for the State Opening of Parliament next week.  Wouldn’t do for the Imperial Crown to appear to simultaneously be at the Tower and on Her Majesty’s head.”  As they turned another corner, Kate knew she was completely disorientated, although she did at least feel reassured to remember from a previous visit that pretty much everyone except General Carter got lost at least once a month, or so the SGC personnel claimed: everyone else apparently just kept walking at a steady pace until they found somewhere they did recognise.

 

“I’ll remind them, although it’s unlikely anyone would notice.  People generally don’t, notice duplicates that is…”

 

“Some of us do,” said Kate quietly, her eyes staying resolutely focussed on the guards she could see at the end of the hallway, suggesting they were finally approaching their destination.

 

“You’re not People.” Osgood cleared her throat, suddenly needing to talk about something else, “you expect us to still be here next week then, if you’re thinking about the State Opening?”

 

“Or somewhere - always hard to know with Sam, her aliens seem to be spread out over so much space, don’t know how she copes with the travel…”

 

* * *

  
  


“Where’s Strax?”

 

“With Parker, loading the carriage,” observed Vastra calmly, putting aside the newspaper she had been reading and studying her clearly frazzled wife with interest.

 

“Did you check his luggage?” asked Jenny, coming further into the conservatory now she knew that he was otherwise occupied, trying to tuck the loose strands of her hair back into her bun.

 

“Yes my dear.  Nothing explosive - just his new ‘grenades’ and some new ‘cluster bombs’ River Song gave him today.”  Vastra tasted the air with a rapid flick of her tongue, “speaking of which, where is River?”

 

“She went to St Paul’s,” Jenny gave up trying to tidy her hair, realising she would have to remove all the pins and start again, “likes the stained glass, but she said she’d be back before Evensong starts.  Cluster Bombs?”

 

“One dozen of what are apparently new ‘rugby’ balls?” Vastra said the new word carefully, as if tasting it to check it was not volatile, “...they are a most intriguing oval shape and bounce in a highly unpredictable fashion, much to Strax’s delight.  He is already plotting how they can be incorporated into his battle planning,” explained Vastra, wondering if Jenny would be cross if she pulled out the rest of the hairpins - after years of marriage, Vastra was still positively enchanted by the sight of her wife’s long, silky hair tumbling free about her face.

 

“And they’re just rugby balls?  Nothin’ clever? You know what they’re both like…” reminded Jenny, only just recovered from teaching River how to bake scones: it wasn’t that she had been a bad student, just rather mischievous and full of fun.  It therefore wouldn’t surprise Jenny if the time-traveller had slipped something just a little bit explosive into her gift for Strax.

 

“They are just rugby balls.  And Strax made his detonators from that almond marzipan paste you gave him, so we are quite safe as long as he does not throw them at anyone,” concluded Vastra, remembering with a delicate shudder the concussion he had given Clara Oswin Oswald when he had thrown the newspaper straight at her head in what had been, in retrospect, a perfectly understandable misunderstanding between the two of them.  Nevertheless, she did not like to imagine how much damage the Sontaran could do if his missile was a cricket or rugby ball as he, for all his other faults, was in possession of an excellent aim and strong arm.

 

“Good.”  Jenny looked around the conservatory, satisfied that everything appeared to be in order and ready for their impending departure, or would be once she’d changed and tidied her hair. “Do you think he’ll ever realise?”

 

“Realise what?”  Vastra was only just paying attention to what her wife was saying, being instead distracted with working out if Jenny’s hair could be fully loosened by removing the hairpin which was just behind her left ear and was reachable with a quick flick of her tongue, or whether there were more pins that would need to be dislodged too.

 

“Realise that we’ve given ‘im fakes?”  Knowing what was holding her wife’s attention, Jenny removed the temptation by extracting the pin which she knew Vastra had spotted, confident her hair would stay up without it.

 

“Unlikely,” huffed Vastra, realising she’d been caught, “not that it matters if he does, for I shall explain that he is not allowed any explosives until he remembers to not play with his weapons so recklessly or leave grenades lying around, and especially not indoors.”  Vastra stood up, deciding that with their friends occupied, she could perhaps take better advantage of what was no doubt going to be their last quiet moment together for quite some time.   “Although this room is a very pleasant addition to the house, and I confess I would have not thought to create an observatory in the attics had those explosions not necessitated some refurbishment, I do not wish to repeat the experience.”

 

“No need to be huffy,” teased Jenny, not disagreeing with her wife.  The conservatory was lovely, especially in winter when it was nice and warm even if the snow was over the front step.  She was less certain about the observatory, finding it hard to see the pictures in the stars that Vastra and the Doctor saw.  “And it’s not like you’d ever been to the attics.”

 

“As always, you are quite correct my dear.  Are there anymore preparations you need me to complete?” asked Vastra, acutely aware that her wife had taken it upon herself to complete the bulk of the preparations for their departure.

 

“No...” Jenny reached out her hand to her wife, appreciating the offer but for once having nothing else to do apart from get herself ready, “...but you can keep me company whilst I tidy up and change.”

 

“I could help?” offered Vastra, eyes bright with hope as she took her wife’s hand, “unlike the attics I’m very familiar with your hairpins.”

 

“That wouldn’t be ‘elping…” teased Jenny kindly, pulling her wife along with her, “... evensong’s at 3.30 now it’s winter,” she added, which meant she had less than half an hour until River returned, and there was no way she was letting River and Strax wait in the now-tidy house unsupervised.

 

“All the more reason for helping, Jenny dearest,”  said Vastra, failing in her attempt to look innocent.

 

“Daft lizard…” Jenny tried hard not to smile and failed when Vastra did the Silurian equivalent of a pout, “...fine, but it’s your fault if she lets him eat any sherbets!”  

 

* * *

  
  


For once, Vastra behaved herself.  After drawing their bedroom curtains to shut out the rapidly darkening night even though it was still mid afternoon,  she proceeded to  confine her actions to those that did actually help Jenny  change into her travelling dress and tidy her hair. She was tempted at several points to suggest that they abandoned their plans to leave today and insist that River stay the night so that the inhabitants of Paternoster Row could travel through time and space to wherever the Tardis required them fully rested, but ultimately held her tongue.  Jenny’s energy was visibly returning as she had quickly brushed up and changed and, with the house now effectively shut down for winter, staying in it another night would only generate repeat work in the morning.

 

“Ready my dear?” asked Vastra, standing next to her wife in the entrance hall as they waited for River to return from her visit to the cathedral next door.  The Silurian was trying not to listen to the muffled thumps and curses she could hear from Strax and Parker as they finished securing their luggage on the carriage.  Fortunately, due to her inferior ape hearing, Jenny did not appear to be able to hear the abuse their possessions were currently experiencing.

 

“Yes.  How are we getting…” Jenny paused, trying to remember what she knew of their upcoming journey, “...wherever it is we’re goin’?” she finally asked, realising she had no idea about their destination in either time or space.  

 

“According to Parker, we are travelling by carriage a short distance into the fog so that River Song may then use her Vortex Manipulator to transport all of us through time and space to a planet several thousand miles from this one, at a point in time that is…” Vastra frowned, trying to recall what she knew about the time they were going to, “... a Friday some 125 years in the future.”

 

“And that’s where we meet the Doctor?”

 

“No.  That is where Mr Parker takes over and uses some technology he calls a ‘Stargate’ to transport us all through space to America.”

 

“America? Our America?” asked Jenny, confused.  This seemed rather complicated to just end up somewhere she read about in the newspapers, and since when did Parker know how to use alien transportation?

 

“If by ‘our’ you mean on this planet, then yes.  And we are travelling to a place called ‘Cheyenne Mountain’ in the western state of Colorado.  Mr Parker described our journey as being the ‘scenic route’.”

 

“I didn’t know Parker was…alien?” Jenny didn’t quite like how that sounded, but she was at a loss as to what else to say.  

 

“He is not, that is, he is human like you.  But he is from a different time, the time that we are travelling to.  Apparently it is also the time of Clara Oswald. It is on his recommendation that we packed the second best tea service,” explained Vastra, hearing movement outside the front door, indicating that River was returning and their departure was now imminent and so reaching for their cloaks.  With snow falling, the foggy afternoon was going to be cold and unpleasant.

 

“Likes a good cuppa does Parker,” agreed Jenny thoughtfully, automatically taking her cloak from Vastra “so does Clara.  Wonder why we need a tea service then?”

 

“I think it has something to do with the Americans,” concluded Vastra, helping Jenny to fasten her cloak before quickly pulling hers about her shoulders and putting on her hat but not yet lowering the veil, but we will find out shortly.”  Anything further that she might have said on the subject was quickly forgotten as the front door opened, and a clearly cold but exhilarated River Song came in.

 

“I always forget how pretty it is,” she declared, shutting the heavy door behind her and lowering her cloak hood, “and the music!”

 

“You enjoyed your visit?”

 

“It was wonderful Vastra, quite wonderful.  I could have stayed for hours but it was getting dark.”

 

“You need to come back in summer,” said Jenny quickly, worried that River might decide to stay and go back to the Cathedral tomorrow - there was no way any of them, least of all her wife, could stay in the house tonight without fires and Jenny’s temper would not hold if she had to lay fires in the grates she’d cleaned out that morning, “the days are longer and the sun makes the glass sparkle and the gold bits glint.”

 

“And it will be deliciously cool in the heat,” agreed River, amused when she saw Vastra shudder at the idea of cool being ‘delicious’, “perhaps August?”

 

“I’ll make us some ices,” promised Jenny, pleased that her suggestion had worked, “we’re all packed up.”

 

“I saw the boys at the carriage.  Did you know your horse was called Lady Penelope?”

 

“It amuses Parker, I do not know why.  Is it significant?” Vastra didn’t like to add that she thought it rather pointless naming such lesser mammals but by naming it, they did save a fortune in coach horse fees since Strax had learnt that killing things with names made Jenny very cross.

 

“Just seemed an odd choice for a name…” pondered River, failing to see the wink and smirk that Vastra and Jenny exchanged, the wives clearly of the view that their friend was not in much of a position to question names, “...no matter.  Shall we?”

 

“We shall.”  Extinguishing the last lamp, the three ladies stepped out into Paternoster Row and, after Jenny had locked the door, proceeded to walk the few yards to their nearby carriage.

 

“Thank you Strax,” acknowledged Vastra as the Sontaran assisted them into the carriage before stowing the step and heading to the groom’s bench at the front, resuming his debate with Parker about when the Moonites would attack.

 

“What ‘appens now?” asked Jenny once they felt the carriage start to move, the steady clop of Lady Penelope’s hooves as Parker led her forwards up the Row just about audible through the fog.

 

“Now, my dear Jenny…” explained River, pushing the sleeve of her cloak up her arm to reveal a leather gauntlet with what looked to Jenny like a pocket-watch set on it, “... now we travel…” and with a quick turn and press of what looked like a watch face, the carriage, Lady Penelope, Parker, the three ladies and all their luggage, including the swords and tea service, melted into the fog and, catching the right time wind, set off to a planet far, far away from Earth in, as Vastra put it, the time of Clara Oswald and Parker.  

 

It was time for their next adventure...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although Rugby as a sport had been around for a number of years, the shape of the ball had only been properly specified and regulated relatively recently from Madame Vastra's perspective in circa 1895-ish. 
> 
> For those readers unfamiliar with the sport, it is a 7, 13 or 15 a-side team sport (depending on the variant played) which uses an oval ball not dissimilar to American Football. The sport is quite technical and, to the untrained eye, can appear to be indiscriminately violent (it's not, indiscriminately violent that is, with the contacts being quite brutal but well disciplined and controlled). Notable quirks of the sport include only being able to pass the ball backwards and deliberately kicking the ball out of play. Through all of this, you're playing with a ball that, unlike a soccer ball, is extremely unpredictable in bounce, with the shape resulting in the ball bouncing at varying heights and in almost any direction!
> 
> The State Opening of Parliament is a formal occasion in which the Queen attends the House of Lords to read the 'Queen's Speech' - it's written by the Government of the day and sets out the objectives for the year. For narrative convenience, I've ignored the 2010 decision to 'regularlise' the Parliamentary year to run from May-April and it therefore remains November-ish, fitting in with the overall autumnal/wintry timeframe this story seems to have settled in!


	8. It was only one star...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sharp eyed readers will notice I use both 'pants' and 'trousers' - this isn't an editing error, but an attempt to stick to the vocabulary of the relevant characters (US characters think/say pants, UK ones think/say trousers).
> 
> Thanks for reading, enjoy....

 

“Hello, I’m…” Seeing quite how many armed people were now in the office, Kate re-evaluated her introduction, “...clearly expected, and this is Osgood.”

 

“Jake Spirelli Ma’am, and please go right in.” He didn’t know what he had expected the Head of UNIT to be, but a slender, still woman wearing dark pants and woolen coat was not it, although the pale blue shirt and blonde hair was at least vaguely familiar; and in total contrast to Osgood.

 

“Thanks.”  Kate took another step forwards, smiling at the Lieutenant before stopping, “this will not do.”

 

“Ma’am?” Jake was confused and concerned - he had no idea what she was talking about and could not fathom what had happened to upset her this quickly.  And he certainly didn’t want to imagine what General Carter’s reaction would be if whatever it was couldn’t be resolved as fast as it had arisen.

 

Ignoring Jake, Kate turned to Osgood and asked, “are we playing a game of Sardines?”

 

“Not deliberately, but it is rather crowded...oi!”  Startled, Osgood turned around, only to see that she had, in trying to avoid being squashed against Jake’s desk or stood unprofessionally close to Kate, ended up rather closer than she’d intended to be to a UNIT soldier and his firearm.

 

“Osgood?”

 

“I’m fine, his gun wasn’t in his pocket,” Osgood rearranged her scarf again so it didn’t slip and get stood on - she had no intention of being strangled and she doubted they’d all wiped their feet properly.

 

“Holster Ma’am,” said Jake carefully, trying not to make eye contact with anyone as he wasn’t sure he would manage to not laugh if he did.

 

“Same difference, and it’s Osgood, not Ma’am,” corrected Osgood pleasantly, although all the London-based UNIT personnel present heard the unspoken rebuke, knowing that for all her privileges and opportunities that arose from her rather unique position  (and all but a very select few didn’t know how unique that position was) she was quite particular about being ‘just Osgood’.  No one at UNIT was ‘Ma’am’ apart from Kate Stewart.

 

“Dogs, go away,” instructed Kate, once again cross that the soldiers were clearly incapable in knowing how to sensibly implement the most basic of commands.  To Jake’s amazement, on hearing this rather cryptic sounding order, the majority of the UNIT soldiers, including the guy with the unfortunately placed rifle, all looked as sheepish as well-muscled, Kevlar wearing attack soldiers could look.  Unfortunately, the guy at the front, who was evidently considering himself to be the one in charge, didn’t seem to follow.

 

“With respect Dr Stewart, the Protocol states…”

 

“The Protocol states that the Head of UNIT must be adequately protected from any reasonable risk from either terrestrial or alien threat.”  Jake was fascinated - her voice was warm, almost friendly, and hands shoved in her pants pockets, Kate Stewart’s entire demeanour was one of total relaxation and ease… and yet he still felt like he was about to pee in his pants despite only being an observer, a thought many of the UNIT soldiers clearly shared, based on the looks on their faces.

 

“The Protocol also states that when in the vicinity of the Stargate…”

 

“That the Head of UNIT, which is me by the way, not you, receives a dual escort comprising personnel from both UNIT and Stargate Command so as to ensure that neither of our allies are confused with threats.” Kate paused for a moment, in part to remind herself that this was serious (she always felt a bit ridiculous being the ‘military’ leader, like she was playing ‘dress-up’ with her father’s uniform), and in part to see how this soldier, who she now recognised was one of the local UNIT affiliated officers and would therefore be about as much use to her as a Dalek found a space hopper, would react.  Unfortunately, he opened his mouth, clearly thinking he had something to say.  “And right now, I identify you as the threat.  Max?”

 

“Yes Ma’am?” One of the UNIT soldiers, who had looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole when this conversation started, answered from towards the rear of the room.

 

“Get rid of him, and take the rest of the dogs please?”  To watch the response of the majority of the UNIT personnel, it was clear that the calm, almost casual tone in which Kate asked her question was as effective as any Marine Drill Sergeant’s shout.

 

“Yes Ma’am.  With regard to the Protocol Ma’am?” asked Max cautiously, preparing to shove every last UNIT soldier out into the hallway before then getting rid of their locally acquired problem.  He did not want to think what conversations he’d be having with the Colonel when they returned to London when he and the rest of the permanent UNIT troop would have to relive this moment.

 

“I’m sure that I’m safe enough with you in the hall.  And remind everyone who wrote the Protocols please.”

 

“Yes Ma’am.”  At Max’s nod, everyone who had any common sense (which included all of the additional SGC personnel that had arrived with Kate and Osgood) started to leave, a couple of the SGC airmen ‘assisting’ their UNIT colleagues in helping the original offender leave.

 

“I’ll show myself in, shall I?” checked Kate, her apparent good humour and laid back attitude regained as she gestured for Jake to stay where he was, being able to spot an insincere ‘at attention’ as easily as an earnest and respectful ‘at ease’ and not in the least offended that he hadn’t snapped to attention as no doubt some protocol or other suggested he should.

 

“Osgood?”

 

“Yes Max?”  Osgood frowned as she whispered, why was she whispering? Just because he’d whispered at her…

 

“Who wrote the Protocol?”  He had a hunch, but experience had taught him that Osgood’s hunches were better.

 

“She did!”

  
  


“General Carter?”

 

“Hello, clearly expected.”

 

“Funny.”  Kate suddenly felt a particularly juvenile urge to stick her tongue out at Sam, something that was usually incredibly out of character for her, but was part of a mischievous streak that she was more used to concealing when mixing in the ‘boys club’ of global leaders, political and military.  General Carter was a pleasant, and rare exception to this. “Hello Janet, sorry about the early morning call.”

 

“I’m embarrassed to say, but it didn’t wake me.  Not quite sure how it happened.”

 

“Usually exhaustion,” added a new voice, causing Janet and Sam to look towards the doorway in surprise, both at the literal statement and who was speaking, “or ear plugs.”

 

“And this is Osgood,” explained Kate, rocking back on her heels which, Janet noticed, were a rather unexpected lime green suede kitten heel that, much to her amazement, worked ridiculously well with the masculine cut navy pea coat and dark blue slacks.  Together, the two English women made for quite a contrasting but striking pair.

 

“Hello…” Blinking, Osgood glanced from Sam to Janet to the floor to the US flag furled behind Sam’s desk.  Just as she was about to start the circuit again, she was distracted by Kate, who had correctly read the signs and said sharply,

 

“Inhaler!” as she thrust the small blue gadget into Osgood’s hand, triggering the reflex action that saw the all important dose of medicine delivered.

 

“Asthma?” asked Janet, suppressing the urge to rush forward and help as they were clearly familiar with this routine.

 

“Yes,” explained Kate, having spotted Osgood’s nod of permission to bring the doctor up to speed for her whilst she waited for the medication to take effect.  She also knew that Osgood found the sound of her voice helped her breathing return to normal, but rather planned to keep that particular alternative treatment private, at least for a little while. “Short, shallow breaths bring on an attack, so we generally try not to jump out behind Osgood shouting ‘boo’,” explained Kate, her voice light and relaxed as she kept an eye on her friend, watching for her shoulders starting to relax, an indication that the worst of the attack had passed, “unfortunately not all of our ‘visitors’ understand this.  We were hoping you might be able to find another inhaler for us Janet, as normally Osgood has one too, only we left in a bit of a rush.”

 

“I’m sure I can,” agreed Janet, guessing that there was both more to Osgood’s asthma and the relationship between the two women but recognising that now was not the moment, in either location or time, to explore further.

 

“Thank you,” said Osgood, rejoining the conversation now her breathing was easier, automatically handing the inhaler back to Kate now she no longer needed it.  Now she knew she only had one inhaler with her, she felt much calmer knowing Kate had it - for some reason she was much better at not losing it.

 

“Sam Carter, welcome to Stargate Command,” said Sam, introducing herself properly as she shook Osgood’s hand, “and I think I was asked to give an opinion on your doctorate,” she paused, biting her lower lip as she tried to remember, “in which you theorised how a star could be destabilised and the supernova nucleosynthesis process accelerated to precipitate collapse?”

 

“That was an early hypothesis…” agreed Osgood cautiously, not sure where the General was going with her point, “...but ultimately I had to abandon it and concentrate on more, ah, localised nucleosynthesis applications,” explained Osgood, wondering why her doctoral thesis had come to the attention of General Carter at such an early stage.

 

“I’m sorry, I think that was probably my fault.”

 

“Your fault?” Kate wasn’t an astrophysicist like Sam, and nor was she as good an all-around scientist as Osgood was, but she did understand Osgood’s doctorate (both the original hypothesis and the final thesis) and she wasn’t seeing how Sam Carter was responsible for the change, which, the way Osgood had explained, was caused by a lack of belief in her by her professors.

 

“I’d already proved it, a few months before you put together your theory.”

 

“Proved it how?” Osgood looked curiously at Sam, not noticing her scarf slipping down again as she waited for an explanation, wondering not only how Sam could have already proved her hypothesis but also why she hadn’t been told.  That would have been much easier to cope with than the way it was actually handled.

 

“Umm…” Sam coloured slightly, uncertain how exactly to explain how she’d established her proof.

 

“Wait, your original hypothesis was how to blow up a star?” asked Janet, having had to take a moment to work out what they’d been talking about, not having ever really thought about astrophysics or space prior to joining the SGC.

 

“That’s one way of putting it,” agreed, Osgood, wondering why the General was now blushing a very bright red and looking like she wanted to disappear.

 

“You blew up a star?” asked Kate, connecting the dots the fastest, “why?”

 

“It seemed a good idea at the time,” said Sam simply, not particularly wanting to revisit the broader ‘death of Apophis, turning point in the battle for Goa’uld  supremacy’ context that was now not only extremely classified and complex, but also felt like a lifetime ago.

 

“Have you got any data?” asked Osgood, fascinated, having never thought for a moment, not even once she’d joined UNIT, that empirical proof would have been the reason why her original thesis proposal had been rejected.

 

“Somewhere… I’ll..” Before Sam could say anything else, she was interrupted by the sound of alarms that stopped all conversation.

 

“UNSCHEDULED OFF-WORLD ACTIVATION,” came the announcement over the tannoy system, signalling to all relevant personnel that the Stargate had been dialled and, for the moment, to assume the caller was neither friendly nor invited.

 

“Shall we?” said Sam, somewhat rhetorically as Janet was already leaning towards the door and she’d already started moving, ushering Kate and Osgood with her.

 

“This happen often?” asked Kate conversationally as the four women moved through the outer office, into the hallway (where they once more collected their inevitable security escort), through the briefing room and headed down the tight metal spiral staircase that connected the end of the briefing room to the Control Room.  

 

“Not as much as it used to,” explained Sam, noticing how Kate automatically caught the end of Osgood’s ridiculously long scarf and threw it round the younger scientist’s shoulder without breaking stride.  There was something more going on there, but she’d wonder about that later.  “What have we got Walter?”

 

“Not sure yet General, we’ve closed the iris and are awaiting any indicators.” Chief Master Sergeant Walter Harriman was a man who enjoyed his work and was about as unflappable as his General.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Mind if I give the dogs a run?”

 

“Sure.” On Sam’s confirmation, Kate turned to look towards the nearest UNIT soldier, pleased but not surprised that it was Max, who had clearly understood that he’d effectively received a battlefield commission to whatever rank he needed in order to be in charge of the UNIT soldiers.  He nodded and six UNIT soldiers set off down the nearby staircase to take up joint guard in the Gate Room with the Marines already there.

 

“Now what?” whispered Osgood, who had found herself stood towards the back of the Control Room, next to Dr Fraiser who, with decades of experience, had known exactly where to guide Osgood to so that she could watch what was happening but not get in the way.

 

“We wait for a signal.”

 

“What sort of signal?”

  
“One that tells us they’re friends…” muttered Janet, frowning.  It didn’t normally take this long.


	9. A matter of perspective...

“Cooo-eeee!” 

“Yes Ma’am?” Startled at the unexpected call, Parker gently tugged on Lady Penelope’s bridle so that she slowed to a stop, before turning and looking back over his shoulder.

“I think here will do, don’t you?” asked River, taking advantage of the now stopped carriage to jump out, a rather incongruous sight given she was still wearing Victorian finery.

“Yes Ma’am.” Parker wasn’t certain, but it was not his place, in either time, to argue with River Song. And right now, he couldn’t see anything through the fog, so had no idea if he was in Victorian London or an alien planet.

“The fog is part of this planet’s night. It will clear in…” River squinted at the sky, “...about 5 minutes.”

“You are certain of this?” asked Vastra, coming to stand next to her friend, having taken a moment longer to disembark the carriage - she had no desire to damage herself before their arrival at their final destination.

“Yes. Well, maybe 6 minutes,” admitted River, grinning at the Silurian, who had instinctively lowered her veil as she exited the carriage. “The planet’s uninhabited, you can take the veil off.” 

“Thank you.” Vastra removed her hat and veil and put them on the groom’s seat, next to where Strax should have been sitting. “Strax? Where are you?” she asked, having to resort to tasting the air to try and find the Sontaran, so thick was the fog. It didn’t help her locate him, but it did confirm what her eyes could not - they were definitely not in Victorian London any more.

“Silence Madame, or you will give away our position before I have secured our perimeter.”

“Stick close to the carriage Strax…” instructed Vastra, knowing that the quickest way to get him back where she could see him was if she let him complete his ‘patrol’. “...I think I can taste some…” There was a splash, “...water,” sighed Vastra, looking at River in irritation.

“It’s a shallow lake, he’s fine.”

“You might have said sooner, he is so much louder when he is wearing wet clothes.”

“I’ve been captured! For the glory of my clone batch I will defeat you!” shouted Strax, starting to generate some violent splashing sounds once he had recovered from the surprise of landing face, well, chest first in some shallow water.

“Miss Flint?”

“Yes Parker?” Jenny’s voice sounded nearby but Vastra was frustrated to be able to neither see or sense her wife’s exact position.

“If you could take Lady Penelope’s bridle and hold her steady, I’ll go and help Mr Strax up from that puddle he’s found for himself,” 

“Course!” Jenny’s voice sounded much closer now and, with fog starting to thin, Vastra was able to make out a Jenny-shaped shadow moving down the side of the horse to where Parker was standing. “‘ello Penny,” she said affectionately, giving the horse’s nose a scratch, “is it far to go from here River?” she asked, not liking the idea of having to find some dry clothes for Strax in the middle of nowhere, “in time I mean,” she added, not wanting to play word games with her quick-tongued friend.

“No. A minute or two once Mr Parker is ready. The Stargate is right in front of us,” explained River, hunting in her neat little handbag for a pocket mirror and hair brush. There was no way she was changing planets without first sorting out her hair - fog-fuzz was not a good look!

“Why are we using this Stargate as transportation?” asked Vastra, finally getting an opportunity to ask the question she’d been wondering about for a while.

“Because the Vortex Manipulator is unreliable for large groups,” answered River, still struggling to find her hairbrush, which was starting to irritate her. What was the point of having a pocket tardis for a handbag if you still managed to leave things at home? And no, it couldn’t travel like the full size ones - it was a replica the Doctor had found for her when he’d been re-cataloguing the library one wet Thursday near Yequembrax Three, but it was bigger on the inside and...wait, was that it? Triumphantly, River pulled out an under-ripe banana, which she immediately threw aside and continued her rummaging.

“Unreliable how?” persisted Vastra, choosing to ignore the temptation to ask River why she was travelling with exotic fruit.

“It can cope with time and space coordinates but doesn’t do so well on the fine positioning. Bit of a risk when you need to be inside a mountain… ah ha!” Never one to learn from her mistakes, River again pulled out what she thought was her hairbrush with another great flourish. It wasn’t.

“Why do you have a teapot in your handbag?” asked Vastra, unable to resist this time.

“Why not?” asked River, tucking her handbag under her arm, meaning she had a free hand to remove the lid, which she passed to Vastra, who accepted it automatically. “Thank you. Here it is, I knew I had it!” exclaimed River, brandishing the clearly well-loved hairbrush that had been carefully kept inside the large china teapot. “And look, here’s the sun!”

“And Strax,” observed Vastra, blinking rapidly to help her eyes adjust to the suddenly brighter light as the fog, which had been steadily thinning whilst they had been talking, disappeared.

“He does look rather damp,” agreed River, retrieving her teapot from Vastra before disappearing into the carriage to tidy herself up.

“Thank you, Mr Parker.”

“What do you say, Strax?” prompted Jenny, not letting go of Lady Penelope’s bridle.

“I almost had them defeated, it was going to be a most wondrous victory in the mud of battle!”

“STRAX!” Vastra and Jenny managed to shout in unison.

“Thank you Mr Parker, I am sorry I kicked you. Allow me to heal your wounds…” muttered Strax dejectedly, not liking it when they shouted at him. Just because his ears were small didn’t mean loud shouts didn’t hurt them.

“There is no need Mr Strax,” said Parker amiably, knowing from past experience that it would not be at all helpful to point out the Sontaran’s flailing kicks had actually missed him, as Strax would attempt to recreate what he thought he had done… and those kicks never missed Parker’s shins.

“I think we are ready to travel on to Earth in your time Parker,” suggested Vastra, seeking to take advantage of a sulking and therefore silent Strax and try to get to this ‘Colorado’ place before anything else distracting happened. “Is there anything we can do to assist you?”

“Thank you Ma’am, but all I need to do is follow the instructions.” As Parker spoke, he reached into his coachman’s uniform coat and pulled out a piece of paper.

“What’s goin’ to ‘appen?” asked Jenny, coming to stand alongside her wife having handed over Lady Penelope to Strax who was still looking very sorry for himself. At this rate, she was going to have to give him a fizzy sherbet before bedtime to cheer him up or he’d be wanting to go home to Paternoster Row or worse, his clone batch, and then there would be no peace, or undamaged china.

“Umm, first I need to find the,” Parker consulted his notes, “Dial Home Device, which should be in front and to the side of the Stargate.” He looked up and studied the large stone ring which was some fifty yards in front of them, elevated on a small platform which fortunately had a ramp up to it, presumably because it was built with livestock and horse-drawn carts in mind.

“Does it have a big red ball in its middle?” asked Jenny, pointing towards a short pedestal type thing which was just to the side of the ring, at the foot of the ramp.

“Thank you Miss Flint, it does. Now, I have to press 7 symbols on the Dial Home Device and that will start the Stargate spinning.” Jenny and Vastra listened carefully as Parker resumed his reading of his notes, “and when the 7th symbol is locked, whatever that means, there will be what looks like a splash of water and then the blue wormhole horizon forms.”

“A splash of water?”

“That’s what it says, Ma’am,” confirmed Parker, “it goes on to say that we must be well back from the platform when this is happening, as otherwise we will be killed.” Parker frowned as he read that section of his notes again, “the splash bit. That’s the bit that’s dangerous. Once the wormhole horizon is formed, we’re safe.”

“How do we use the wormhole?” asked Vastra, deciding that she would be holding Strax’s collar at that point, just to make sure he didn’t decide to charge into battle and be killed. For one thing, she did not want to have to explain to the Doctor where his favourite ‘potato-head’ was.

“Once I’ve entered a code on this…” Parker extended his left arm, causing his sleeve to ride up, revealing a small keypad strapped to his forearm, “...which tells Stargate Command that we’re friendly, we just walk through the ring. We step off on this planet, and step on to Earth.”

“That’s it?” asked Jenny, surprised.

“Yup.” It was only after he’d seen the frown appear on Jenny’s face that he realised what he’d done, “I’m sorry, I mean yes Miss Flint.”

“You sound different,” was all she said, not as a criticism, just as an observation, “you remind me of Clara, the Doctor’s Clara that is.”

“Mr Parker is from the same time as Clara, Jenny dear. I think he is speaking in his ‘normal’ voice.”

“Same school class actually, not that she remembers me. And yeah, I mean yes, Madame Vastra, I forgot where I was.”

“I believe we are in the time of Earth’s 2015, so you do not need to apologise Mr Parker, it is we who have to learn the language of this time.”

“You’re a time-traveller?” asked Jenny, eyes widening in surprise. She’d always wondered how Parker had always been so relaxed when faced with the Doctor, Strax and all their alien ways, but had given it very little actual thought.

“Not exactly Miss. I…” he paused, not certain how he could explain why and how he was in Victorian London given that, as far as he knew, Jenny didn’t know about UNIT, “... think it will make much more sense if we answer your question once we’re on Earth?” he suggested, deciding that Kate Stewart had to be paid the big bucks for something.

“An excellent suggestion Mr Parker, we should not linger on this planet longer than is necessary. For one thing, I do not imagine that fog will stay away indefinitely and fatal not-water splashes are most easily avoided if they can be watched, from a distance,” declared Vastra quickly, not looking forward to her wife’s reaction when she discovered that Vastra knew of Parker’s identity from the moment she ‘hired’ him.

“Is the Professor ready?”

“River? Are you ready for Parker to start this wormhole for us?” asked Vastra, suddenly conscious that she hadn’t heard anything from inside the carriage for a few moments.

“Of course!” she declared, stepping down from the carriage, no longer the picture of Victorian sophistication but now dressed in an elegant strapless ballgown in a rich, dark orange the colour of the sky on Frabiton Minor at sunset, with matching elbow-length gloves.

“Is this appropriate dress for our destination Parker?” asked Vastra, blinking. Of everything that she might have expected, this was not high on her list.

“Umm… it’s not everyday wear Ma’am…”

“You don’t think it suits me?” pouted River, swishing the full skirt so the poor young man got the full effect.

“It definitely suits you Ma’am, but isn’t what many would pick to wear to visit an underground military base, Ma’am.”

“Oh, I’m not stopping… well, are we ready?”

“I’ll go dial the gate,” gulped Parker, relieved to see the wry smile and nod from Madame Vastra that gave him permission to head off and start the final stage of their journey.

“You’ll get cold with those bare shoulders…” said Jenny finally, modifying her instinctive reaction to one she hoped was ‘less Victorian’ as her wife would say.

“That’s the plan!” River’s coquettish reply confused Jenny and her eyes darted around, looking for Vastra to explain, only her wife was currently establishing a firm grip on Strax’s collar, presumably to keep him within tongue striking range in case he tried to do something silly. “I’ve been invited to a party, which will be mostly indoors but, by not having a coat, if I do get cold, any gentleman will oblige me with his coat,” River explained, not wishing to needlessly confuse Jenny, “and that will make my husband realise he’s supposed to give me his!”

“You’re going to a party with the Doctor?”

“Yes. I’m picking him up. Hardly socially respectable, but then, we’d hardly enjoy ourselves if we worried about society’s opinions, would we?”

“I guess not Ma’am…” muttered Jenny, forgetting River’s earlier suggestion to use her first name. Suddenly, she felt a long way from the kitchen of Number 13 Paternoster Row, “...I think Vastra needs me…” she mumbled quickly, before bobbing an automatic half curtsy and rushing around the back of the carriage and heading to her wife.

“My dear?” Not that Vastra ever objected to Jenny holding her hand, but she usually didn’t grasp it quite that tight.

“I’m goin’ to be an alien!” blurted out Jenny at the same moment the 7th chevron locked and a large splash of fatal ‘not-water’ rushed towards them.

"SONTAR-HA! Surrender before I defeat you in glorious battle!”

“STRAX!” shouted Vastra and Jenny in unison, Vastra’s shout particularly loud because, as the wormhole formed, he’d surged forward with such a speed that a non-Silurian shoulder would have been dislocated.

“It worked! The Splasheymen have retreated! I have secured victory for my clone batch!”

There was a long silence as neither Jenny or Vastra knew what to say, although Vastra was going to start swearing in Silurian if he didn’t stop jumping.

He stopped jumping.

“You won’t tell them, will you?” he asked suddenly, sounding positively mournful.

“Tell who what Strax?” asked Jenny, watching Vastra’s colour return to normal now her arm was no longer being yanked about by an over-animated Sontaran.

“My clone batch, tell them that the Splasheymen ran away before I could blast them into the farthest depths of space with a laser canon?”

“I…” Vastra found herself lost for words, in any language.

“If we meet them, we won’t say,” promised Jenny, deciding that was an appropriately subtle distinction that Strax wouldn’t pick up on.

“Thank you boy, ah, Miss Flint. Mr Parker is waving. He is signalling an attack!”

“Oh Strax…” 

He slipped free of Vastra’s tired grasp and lumbered at speed towards Parker who, familiar with his friend’s ways, was clearly preparing to tackle him to a stop, “...come on Jenny dearest. Until we arrive we cannot have a cup of tea, and I for one am in need of a cup…” and, hand in hand, with Jenny leading Lady Penelope by the bridle, the wives set off at a leisurely stroll towards the Gate, two aliens united as they took their final steps into the 21st century...


	10. Convergences of Times Past, Present and Future

_“Now what?” whispered Osgood, who had found herself stood towards the back of the Control Room, next to Dr Fraiser who, with decades of experience, had known exactly where to guide Osgood to so that she could watch what was happening but not get in the way._

_“We wait for a signal.”_

_“What sort of signal?”_

_“One that tells us they’re friends…” muttered Janet, frowning.  It didn’t normally take this long._

“Anything?” asked Sam, resisting the urge to take Walter’s seat at the main computer.  It was at moments like this that she actually regretted having the stars on her shoulders - Generals weren’t supposed to ‘do’, they were supposed to ‘lead’.

 

“Not yet General,” said Walter, keeping an experienced eye on the timer running in the bottom right of his screen, “but it’s only been 15 seconds.”

 

“How long does it usually take?” asked Kate, looking deceptively calm and at ease with the situation, although Osgood managed to spot the slight movement of her coat sleeves, which only happened when her boss’ hands were fidgeting inside her trouser pockets - it was the only way Osgood had found (despite extensive careful observation) to tell if Kate actually was nervous.

 

“Less than 20 seconds,” said Sam, chewing on her lip as she glanced once more at all the computer screens, checking that there was nothing wrong with the Gate systems.

 

“These days Ma’am,” began Walter patiently, his eyes never leaving his screens, “an SGC team regularly travelling through the Gate can send the signal within a few seconds.  For them the average is about 17 seconds, but that’s only after whoever has the GDO has had some practice.  30 seconds.”

 

“GDO?” whispered Osgood, not recognising the acronym and hoping Dr Fraiser could enlighten her

 

“It’s a keypad which means you can send an ID code through the Gate.  Does someone have one?” asked Janet, not having given any thought to how the signal they were waiting for might be sent.

 

“Bombardier Parker is doing it for the first time,” said Kate, before sighing and adding, “it’s the Royal Artillery equivalent of Corporal,” knowing from experience that few ever understood what it meant.

 

“Then anything less than 3 minutes is good and less than 2 minutes is above average Ma’am,” explained Walter kindly, knowing from almost twenty years’ experience that waiting for the incoming IDC was never a pleasant experience for a commanding officer and Kate Stewart, despite the civilian clothes and lack of military rank, was clearly a commanding officer who had learned from the very best. “45 seconds.”

 

“And the record?  For first time dial?” asked Sam, not enjoying the wait but intrigued with this insight that Walter was giving her.  She’d learned a lot about commanding in Atlantis, especially the waiting for the teams to come home, and she’d doubled and tripled that knowledge since taking command at the Mountain.  However, she was also the first to admit that, in comparison to her wife and Master Chief, she was barely out of diapers when it came to considering herself being experience with waiting for the gate to open.

 

“47 seconds.  And a member of SG1 Ma’am, and that was with the original iris.”

 

“What does that mean?” asked Kate, trying not to sound irritated that Parker wasn’t able to snatch the record from someone.

 

“It means it doesn’t count, with due respect General,” called out Janet, deciding poor Walter needed a bit of help.  “Who’s first from the ordinary mortals Walter?”

 

“Ordinary mortals?” asked Osgood, knowing Kate would want to know but would forget to ask the question now.

 

“She means I’m disqualified because I designed and build the system Osgood,” explained Sam, showing impressively good humour, for a General who’d just been gently sassed.

 

“Ah.  There are similar rules at UNIT,” agreed Osgood, smiling thoughtfully as she considered Kate’s profile.

 

“There are?” asked Kate, suddenly distracted from her countdown watch to turn and look at Osgood, “do I want to know?” she asked with a crooked smirk.

 

“Almost certainly Kate, but can you ask when I can hear the answer and not have you kill my staff?” joked Sam.

 

“Good point.  Osgood doesn’t like that paperwork.” Janet smiled, liking Kate’s sense of humour.

 

“She’s right General.  I _really_ don’t like that paperwork, it’s 23 pages, handwritten and still in triplicate.”  Janet stopped smiling - she didn’t think Osgood was joking.

 

“60 seconds.  And I’d like to live please Ma’am.”

 

“Is it the one you need the wax seal for?” Kate was trying to place the form - that was the problem with an organisation that was founded in the Elizabethan age and involved time travel, you could never fully retire or modernise a process as you didn’t know when it would be used again.

 

“No.  Quill.  Preferably swan, but they’re harder to get, even for UNIT.”

 

“Incoming signal!” Walter sounded more animated than he had done for years, but then he hadn’t had his possible near-future execution discussed quite so freely in his earshot since the time of Apophis.

 

“Is it the one we want?” asked Kate, leaning over Walter’s right shoulder as Sam leaned over his left.

 

“You tell us Kate…” encouraged Sam, gesturing to the screen above the hand scanner which was displaying an alphanumeric string of text, “... you invoked Gallifrey…”  Sam said the strange code word carefully, its syllables not tripping off her tongue the same way they did for Kate and Osgood, who looked at Sam in surprise, not expecting to hear that word in this context, “...which means we can decrypt the signal but opening the iris is on your authorisation.”

 

“What do I do?” asked Kate sharply, only needing a split second to recognise the string of seemingly random letters and numbers.

 

“Right hand in the scanner Ma’am,” explained Walter, gesturing to the gently glowing light box under the screen, which she immediately put her hand in, unwilling to risk a moment’s further delay, “that will initiate the iris opening and send a signal back to your Corporal,” he couldn’t remember the rank she’d used, “to let him know we’re ready for him.”

 

“Wow…” Osgood couldn’t help herself, the sight of the iris spinning back into the side of stargate to reveal the shimmering blue surface of the incoming wormhole was an impressive sight, even if you were used to alien technology.  Realising she’d spoken aloud, she blushed and self-consciously checked her scarf was still secure.

 

“I know…” stage whispered Janet, nudging her encouragingly, “...and if she wasn’t a General, my wife would be saying the same thing right now,” she added, correctly guessing that Kate had probably failed to mention that piece of information, not realising that Osgood was currently the only person within earshot who didn’t know.

 

“Oh…Oh!” Tentatively smiling, Osgood was about to ask a question when they were interrupted by what could only be described as an omnipotent sounding cough.

 

“Is it supposed to do that?” she asked, automatically taking the inhaler that Kate was suddenly holding out behind her...

 

“Hello sweetie…” …and used it, twice.  As such, she missed everyone in the Control Room looking at the General, although she did see the smirk and raised eyebrow on Janet’s face, which at least now made some sense.

 

“What?  Don’t look at me…” protested Sam, frowning, “...they’re Kate’s aliens!”

 

“Good point General,” observed Janet, risking a quick wink at her wife before realising that Osgood’s expression was hardening and, if looks could harm, she would be needing a med team to tend to Kate’s life-threatening wounds.

 

“Oh for goodness sake, she’s married!” protested Kate, “...and not my type…” she muttered under her breathe but hopefully just audible enough for Osgood to hear, which in turn meant it was loud enough for Janet to hear, who tucked that thought away for proper consideration and gossip with Sam at a more appropriate moment.

 

“I heard that, Kate Stewart.”

 

“Kill me now…” groaned Kate, pinching the bridge of her nose, “...Parker?  If you can hear me, you have my permission to gag Professor Song…”

 

“That will not be necessary Brigadier - for the glory of your clone batch I shall execute you in a manner befitting your service to your planet London.”

 

“STRAX!”  Sam and Janet could only listen slack-jawed as they heard the perfectly synchronized shout comprising two female voices  attempt to silence the strange male voice.

 

“Sorry Ma’am, Mr Strax got over-excited.  We’re coming through now.”

 

“Finally! Thank you Parker.”

 

“Brigadier?” asked Sam, turning to look at Kate at the same time as Janet asked “Clone Batch?”

 

“Long story, and it’s honorary,” said Kate, dismissively, “Sontarans.  You’ll like Strax.  Well?”  Impatient, Kate waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the Stargate, “do we wait up here?”

 

“What? Oh, no… we can go down to the Gate Room to meet them,” explained Sam hastily, gesturing to the staircase in the corner of the room that the UNIT soldiers had used only a couple of minutes more.

 

“Good.  Osgood?”

 

“Coming!”

 

“Doctor?”

 

“Right behind you General.”

 

“Walter?”  Sam paused at the top of the stairs, letting Kate get out of earshot.

 

“Yes Ma’am?”

 

“Tell me you got that on tape?”

 

“I’ll ring Security and get a copy made for you General.”

 

“Thank you Walter.” Nodding in thanks, Sam started again, only to stop abruptly, causing Janet to bump into her, not that Sam noticed as she was clearly perplexed by something, “Walter?”

 

“Yes General?”

 

“What was the time? For the IDC?”

 

“64 seconds Ma’am.”

 

“And the record? For first timers?”

 

“66 seconds,” Walter paused, working how to answer the next obvious question, “Robert Makepeace.”  Sam winced - that was not a name she’d heard in a long time and she hadn’t really thought she’d ever hear it again.

 

“Fortunately, Master Chief, we now have a new record holder,” she said firmly, unable to stop a slight twitch as she reacted to what she knew could only be an imagined a tickle in the back of her throat and tingle at the back of her neck as long-forgotten memories rushed to the surface before being shoved aside just as quickly.

 

“Yes Ma’am.  I’ll make a note,” promised Walter, glad to remove that man’s name from his records, even if they were informal and unofficial.  With a final smile and a nod of approval, Sam raced down the stairs, closely followed by Janet, both eager to meet ‘Kate’s aliens’ and greet their new record holder.

 

 

“Lieutenant Spirelli?”

 

“Yes Master Chief?”  Jake was surprised - he hadn’t realised the Master Chief knew he was in the Control Room.

 

“You should probably requisition a lab for the General,” explained Walter kindly, his eyes never moving from his screens and the Gate, which was shimmering gently, not yet revealing any travelers.

 

“Yes Master Chief.” Jake wasn’t going to argue with him - Walter Harriman was as legendary within the SGC as SG1, and his ability to anticipate a CO’s needs unrivalled.  It had been lesson 2 of his ‘unofficial’ induction - if Chief Master Sergeant Harriman spoke, Generals listened and everyone else obeyed.  “Anything else?” he asked, glad of any advice he could get.

 

“Gallifrey.  I’m number 3, and Master Sergeant Siler is number 4.  You know who 1 and 2 are.”

 

“Yes Master Chief.  What sort of lab?”

 

“Siler will know…” Walter frowned before standing up so as to better see down into the Control Room, “...and Lieutenant?”

 

“Yes Master Chief?”

 

“Ask him to find a Veterinarian at the same time.”

 

Jake looked from Walter to the Control Room where their visitors had started to arrive, led, as he was about to discover, by Lady Penelope.

 

“This is what the General meant by having ‘fun’?”

 

“Oh no Lieutenant, this is just the beginning.  It’s going to get a lot weirder…  although I’ve never seen that colour formal wear in the gateroom.”

  
  


“Paternoster 1 reporting as ordered Ma’am.”  Despite the fact that his frock coat was dusty and his hat was crushed, Strax having landed on it when Parker tackled him to prevent the Sontaran’s premature (and fatal as the iris would have still be closed) arrival on Earth, Parker looked the perfect Victorian coachman.

 

“At ease Bombardier Parker, well done.” Kate nodded and smiled as she stepped forward to greet, “Miss Flint, Kate Stewart, delighted to meet you,” she said, clasping the hand of Jenny in a welcoming handshake who, still rather disorientated from the transit through the Stargate from deserted planet to military base, smiled and returned the handshake carefully. “Madame Vastra, how lovely to see you again,” continued Kate warmly, shaking the hand of the taller, more obviously alien woman dressed in slightly more elaborate version of a Victorian lady’s travelling dress.

 

“Kate, my dear,” Sam and Janet were surprised - whilst the flirting had a hint of sensuousness in its tone  like that which they had heard through the Gate, the voice was very different. “I have known you for too much of your life for you to call me ‘Madame Vastra’...”  As Kate blushed, not aware that Vastra was still clasping her hand, Sam and Janet exchanged a glance… who were these women?

 

“Vastra.  It is lovely to see you again, and how many times must I apologise for not remembering you the same way you remember me?”  Janet couldn’t be certain, but she thought she heard Osgood hiccup.  Was Osgood going to survive this rather intimate sounding exchange of introductions without passing out?

 

“But you do, my child…” Kate and Jenny both instinctively smothered smirks on hearing Vastra use the term, not understanding how patronising she sounded to anyone not remembering she was ‘an alien lizard woman from the dawn of time’ who hadn’t really bothered to learn how humans had evolved in the several million years she had been ‘asleep’. “...for you remember the shadows in the…” began Vastra, only to be suddenly joined by Kate remembering,

 

“...the shadows in the study and voices on the air… you visited my Father?”

 

“It was my privilege and honour to meet him more than once.  And yes, he knew you were not in bed, little one.”

 

“He never said.”  As always when she thought of her father, she felt the return of the lump that, for months immediately after his death, she thought would never let her swallow again.

 

“His friends told him the world would be a better place if you grew up believing that there was nothing terrifying in the night.  I think we were right,” finished Vastra proudly, leaning back as if trying to get a good look at Kate.

 

“Thank you…” Kate convinced herself that the drop of moisture that she felt on her cheek was because the shimmering blue, almost luminescent surface of the wormhole  was making her eyes water.  “...is there anyone else joining us this way?” she asked, trying to shift focus away from her and back to practicalities.  Picking up on this, Vastra released Kate’s hand.

 

“It is just the 6 of us, if you include Lady Penelope, which of course Parker does,” explained Vastra, smiling kindly at the now blushing young man.

 

“I should hope so too!” said Kate briskly, turning to look at the horse, “you have no idea how difficult it would have been to explain to Her Majesty if Lady Penelope was not in fine fettle.”

 

“Queen Victoria?  But that’s not possible…” gasped Jenny, not entirely sure what year they were in.

 

“No, it’s…”

 

“SPOILERS!” exclaimed the woman in the long evening dress, effectively silencing Kate by putting her hand over her mouth, having first removed her long silk evening glove.  “Are you going to be good Katie?” she asked, identifying herself as the owner the voice they had heard through the gate which, on a waved signal from Sam, Walter had just finished shutting down, unfortunately startling Strax out of his hypnotic trance-like state.

 

“General Song, release the Brigadier!  For the glory of planet London I must make good my promise and execute my clone batch!”  Everyone turned and stared at Strax who in turn, stared at a point just beyond the end of his nose, a look the residents of 13 Paternoster Row recognised as his thinking hard face, “No, wait, other way round… Brigadier Song, release the...Splasheymen, they’ve escaped!  We must capture them… with laser cannon and grenades!”

 

“HOLD YOUR FIRE!” shouted Max and Parker simultaneously, a shout that echoed round the cavernous space of the Gate Room so loudly that River removed her hand from a very relieved Kate’s mouth.

 

“Thank you gentlemen,” said Kate dryly, not sure if she was more grateful for them preventing Strax’s untimely death by Marine Guard bullet or enabling her to carefully step out of River’s reach once more.  “Commander Strax!” she barked, relieved that the diminutive Sontaran still had enough of his eardrums remaining to be able to hear her and stand to attention, silently.

 

“Doctor Fraiser?”  Drawing on every last drop of her military and medical experience, Janet Fraiser managed to approach Kate with a reasonably serious expression on her face.

 

“Yes Brigadier?” Instinct told her that she should not attempt to call the tall blonde ‘Katie’ as ‘General Song’ had appeared to do.

 

“Commander Strax is a very experienced nurse.”

 

“Really?” Of everything that Kate might have said, that was not what she was expecting to hear.

 

“The most experienced Sontaran nurse in the Universe I’d say.”

 

“Quite an achievement,” said Janet carefully, telepathically attempting to apologise to Kate for ever finding her discomfort in the Gate Room amusing -  ‘her’ aliens were certainly different to those the SGC were used to dealing with.

 

“Isn’t it?  You’re, what, 14 now Strax?” asked Kate, risking a quick glance at Osgood to see how she was doing, relieved to see that she wasn’t hyperventilating.

 

“Fifteen Brigadier!” declared the little Sontaran proudly, before asking in a loud whisper, “is it wise to be discussing my punishment with this boy when the Splasheymen are making their escape?”

 

“I can assure you,” said Sam, quickly joining the conversation having managed to work out most of what was going on in the Sontaran’s rather potato-shaped head, “that the Splasheymen are contained by my men and pose no threat to anyone Commander, but thank you for your vigilance.”

 

“Thank you, tall boy,” complimented Strax, tipping forward in the Sontaran equivalent of a Victorian Butler’s bow, “may we meet again on the glorious field of battle where it will be my privilege to kill you.  A set of simple stretches and exercises would strengthen the neck muscles and ease your headache.”

 

“I look forward to it, and thank you,” said Sam equally courteously and unfazed by the death threat, but then this was nowhere near the weirdest introduction she had been involved in, in fact, so far, it was struggling to make her top five, although the offering of physiotherapy was a new feature.

 

“He never told me you were gorgeous…” observed River from right behind Sam having, up to now, been content to watch everyone whilst sauntering around the gate room, ostensibly assessing her surroundings but was also an attempt to break her new shoes in so she could go dancing later.  However, she was now much more interested in the growl she had hear.  “...wait, I know this one…” her eyes narrowed as she tried to place the memory, before, wanting to test her theory, she trailed an exploratory finger down General Carter’s bare forearm, Sam favouring the short-sleeved USAF uniform blouse “...yes!  It’s the same!”

 

“Same as what?” asked Osgood, starting to feel calmer now Kate was no longer looking quite so off-balance (although only a Kate-watcher as experienced as Osgood would have noticed).

 

“This sweetie…” explained River, before securing a demonstration from Jenny by moving to Vastra and caressing the underside of the Silurian’s chin with her fingertips.

 

“What else did you expect?” huffed Vastra, feeling she’d made herself quite clear on the subject of intimacies with another woman’s wife before River’s cooking lesson earlier in the day.

 

“I don’t know…” admitted River honestly, before turning on her heel and mischievously approaching Osgood, asked, “...do the tall ones make a different noise I wonder?”  before planting a kiss on the unsuspecting Osgood’s lips.

 

“It’s the same!” she exclaimed, delighted that she could tell her husband he was wrong, and Kate wasn’t indifferent to Osgood, only to stop and stare intensely at Osgood, who went pale with fear.

 

“It’s ok Osgood...” soothed Kate, immediately striding to the side of Osgood and gently coaxing her to turn away from River whilst waving back Max and Parker who, ever alert, had taken a step forward, prepared to defend ‘their’ Osgood.  Sam meanwhile, was pleased to notice that the Marines kept their zats lowered but nevertheless were ready to fire: she had total confidence that UNIT had this under control (after all, these were their aliens) but this was her Base and she was glad her Marines were ready, should they be needed.

 

“River Song, explain yourself,” ordered Vastra sharply, “just what is the meaning of this ridiculous behaviour?”

 

“The scarf...it’s...his scarf...why have you got my husband’s scarf?” she asked, trying to grab it off Osgood, only to be held back by Vastra and Jenny.

 

“But…” On hearing that it was the scarf that had startled River, a relieved Osgood spun round, wanting to comfort the clearly confused woman, “...it’s my scarf, Kate gave it to me,” she explained, smiling shyly when, despite still being confused, River’s eyes showed a brief spark of delight at having her suspicion confirmed: the tall ones didn’t make a different noise.

 

“And he wasn’t your husband, River, not then,” explained Kate, feeling her heart start to beat again now she knew what had caused River’s shock.

 

“But how...how could you have it?” asked River, startling Sam and Janet with how different her voice sounded now, as gone was the seductive bravura replaced instead with an almost childlike trepidation.

 

“I think that is a story best told by your husband River dear,” soothed Vastra, coming up behind River and placing an almost motherly arm around her shoulder whilst catching Parker’s eye and gesturing him that he was needed, “...now, did you not mention something about a party that he was going to take you to?”  You could hear a pin drop as River accepted Strax’s surprisingly immaculate handkerchief and blew her nose loudly.

 

“On Marbian Gold.  In the 41st century.  The waterfalls carry the scent of the Ologoka flower. I picked this dress to match the waterfalls…do you think he will like it?”

 

“If he does not, I shall be very angry with him, for it is quite beautiful, and designed…“ Vastra, stepped back from River so she could study the dress, “... for dancing, yes?”

 

“Oh yes, dancing and twirling and whirling and…”  River looked to Osgood, “I’m very sorry, I…”

 

“That’s ok,” said Osgood kindly, smiling at River, “you weren’t expecting to see it.  And that dress is gorgeous…” she leaned forward slightly, River instinctively mirroring her, anticipating a confidence was about to be shared, “...can he dance?” whispered Osgood, only to blush when she realised they were stood at the perfect point in the former missile-silo for the intended quiet, private question to be perfectly audible to everyone.

 

“Not really,” whispered River, before taking a small step forward so that she could actually whisper her question directly into Osgood’s ear so no one else would hear.

 

“I don’t know,” Osgood looked thoughtful, only for River to once again whisper something which clearly eased her confusion because she blushed, then smiled shyly and pulled River into a hug, taking the opportunity to whisper a question of her own.

 

“Really? For me?” asked River, forgetting about the acoustics, not that it mattered as, despite their best efforts, not even Vastra or Kate (who had been the most successful at keeping track of the conversation up to this point) could work out what the two new friends were talking about.

 

“I think so,” declared Osgood, stepping back, suddenly conscious that they were actually still stood in the middle of a rather large room, surrounded by lots of people, most of them armed, most of them complete strangers to her, “now, won’t you be late?” she asked automatically.

 

“No, but I think I’d like to be early…” River glanced around the room, like Osgood, realising she’d forgotten that they actually had a rather large audience and trying to work out how she was going to stage her escape.

 

“I’m sure Parker can escort you to the surface where your Vortex Manipulator will work?” suggested Vastra, impressed that, whilst her attention had been focussed on River, Strax had clearly managed to tidy Parker so his hat once once again wearable and his coat dust free - in spite of  all his other faults and quirks, thought Vastra, he really was an exceptional butler, an excellent advertisement for the profession and she really must remember to compliment Jenny later as there was little doubt in her mind as to who had worked the hardest with the Sontaran on his new responsibilities.

 

“Ma’am?” Parker stepped forward and simultaneously offered his arm to River and checked to see that yes, he did have a nod of permission from Kate Stewart.

 

“Handsome boy.” It wasn’t quite as spine-tingling as her first ‘hello sweetie’ had been, thought Janet, enthralled in what she had just witnessed, but it was clear that with the careful coaxing of Vastra, who was not doing a particularly good job of hiding her clearly strained left shoulder, and Osgood, who was definitely returning Kate’s affections, this woman, who still hadn’t been properly introduced by anyone, was clearly on the mend and recovering from her shock.

 

“Kate?”  Sam thought she had a pretty good idea what the plan was, and didn’t think she had a problem with it but wanted to check with her UNIT counterpart, after all, these weren’t her aliens.  

 

“Could you provide someone suitable to show Max the way back to the surface?  I’d hate for him to get lost.”

 

“Of course.”  Hearing what Kate was saying and understanding what she was asking for, Sam glanced around the gate room, noting the UNIT soldier was already moving into position behind and slightly to the right of River, who was evidently quite content on the arm of her Bombardier. “Jake?” she called, spotting her assistant who was stood just inside the Gate Room door, having come down from the Control Room once the Gate shut down.

 

“With pleasure General,” he responded politely, stepping forward and mirroring Parker’s gesture by offering his arm to River, “Ma’am?”

 

“Another handsome boy...and uniform…”  River accepted Jake’s arm, “...you’re more than suitable…” she said, in what Janet could only think to describe as a purr.  Clearly she was recovering her equilibrium.

 

“Give my regards to the Doctor…” said Kate, giving a nod to Parker and Max that they had her permission to leave.

 

“And mine,” added Sam, nodding to Jake that he too had permission to leave.

 

“Good bye Vastra, Jenny, Strax…Osgood...” and, with a final warm smile to Janet, River sauntered out of the Gate Room guided by Jake and Parker with Max and, Sam was pleased to spot, the Gunnery Sergeant in charge of the Gate Room Marine detail who, over the years had been on duty in the Gate Room for some of her more dramatic and dangerous returns through the gate since she’d been a Major and was generally fairly unflappable.

 

 

 

As the heavy gate room doors closed behind the departed River and her eclectic escort, there was a long moment of total silence before Jenny let out the breath that she felt she’d been holding for hours as finally, she felt a little more like herself again.  “What time is it?”

 

“Just a little before eleven o’clock I believe,” said Vastra, her sharp eyes able to read the time on various watches and clocks that she could see, “in the morning if I am not mistaken.”

 

“Perfect time for a cup of tea?” suggested Kate, not caring if she was helping to perpetuate a cultural cliche - it couldn’t be helped, dealing with River Song always left her desperately in need of a cup of tea and, judging by how Vastra and Jenny were perking up, she wasn’t the only one.

 

“Shall we go to the briefing room?  Perhaps we could complete the introductions whilst we organise some tea?”

 

“An excellent suggestion General.  Strax?”

 

“Yes Madame Vastra?” Strax, finding human relationships confusing, had been trying to remember if his wet boots and knees had anything to do with the Splasheymen  and had therefore not been paying attention until his name was called.

 

“We are going to take tea.  Could you bring the tea service?”

 

“Yes Ma’am…” he set off to front of the carriage, returning a moment later with a heavy looking box that Jenny had packed the tea service into and Parker had prudently stowed it under the groom’s bench, making it easy for Strax to find.  He’d also carefully written ‘TEA’ in big letters so Strax would remember what was in it.

 

“They brought a tea service?” Sam looked at Kate and Osgood to see if they were surprised.  They weren’t.

 

“Second best I expect…” said Kate, her hands shoved casually in her pockets, watching with interest as Vastra took hold of Lady Penelope’s bridle, enabling Jenny, who had been holding the horse since shortly after their arrival, to disappear into the carriage, clearly looking for something.

 

“Of course…” said Sam dryly, deciding that, like the earlier comment about wax seals, Kate was joking.

 

“Is that a cake stand?” asked Janet quietly, watching as Jenny stepped carefully down out of the carriage, deciding that, like Osgood’s earlier comment about quills, they weren’t joking.

 

“You actually brought a tea service and, wait, are those scones?”

 

“Yes…” Jenny frowned, trying to work out what the tall blonde woman with the funny accent was confused about, “...they’re fresh baked, this morning.  Fruit and plain, but there’s no cream, only jam.”

 

“Jelly,” translated Osgood automatically, smiling at Jenny, who was still looking confused, “they call it jelly.”

 

“Fruit and plain scones, with jelly but no cream,” repeated Jenny, trying to get the language right.

 

“Excellent.  Shall we?” encouraged Sam, gesturing for Janet and Osgood to start to lead the way with Jenny towards the briefing room, only for everyone to be reminded of Lady Penelope’s presence when she, having been impeccably behaved since departing Paternoster Row, broke wind very loudly and ‘decorated’ the floor of the gate room quite extensively, in the process identifying a hitherto undiscovered acoustic sweet-spot that meant the whole gate room came to a stop in surprise.

 

“Fabulous if you’ve got rose bushes, once it’s rotted on the compost heap for a couple of years...and totally organic too, given Penny’s diet,” remarked Kate conversationally, breaking the silence, relieved to see Osgood had dispatched one of the ‘dogs’ to relieve Vastra of the problem of holding Lady Penelope’s head, “and you might need to find stables, I’d forgotten to warn you about Lady Penelope, but I’m sure Parker will know what’s needed.”

 

“You weren’t joking about the paperwork and the quills, were you?” asked Sam quietly, joining Kate in waiting at the door for Vastra and Strax to join them, Osgood, Jenny and Janet already out in the corridor.

 

“Why would I joke about paperwork?  For one thing, Osgood wouldn’t speak to me for the rest of the day, week actually for that form - have you ever tried writing with a quill?  It’s horribly messy…” and, still shaking her head at the ridiculousness of the question, Kate fell into step with Vastra and started to quickly compare notes with the Silurian on which versions of the Doctor they’d come across when and, more importantly, which version of the Doctor was currently going to a party on Marbian Gold with  River who wanted to dance…

 

* * *

  
  


“General?  Everything ok Ma’am?” asked Master Sergeant Siler, coming along a moment later, surprised to see her stood in the middle of the Gate Room doorway, seemingly staring at nothing in particular.

 

“Siler…”  Sam blinked, realising she’d been caught wool-gathering.

 

“I’m sorry I missed the gate activation Ma’am, I was in the infirmary…” he held up his hand, which had all fingers minus his index finger strapped together, “...Airman Glach wasn’t expecting the gate alarm and dropped the wrench, breaking my fingers.  I see UNIT are here General.”

 

“Yes, Kate Stewart arrived about 45 minutes ago from London, and another team came through the Gate just now,” summarised Sam, “the Master Chief can fill you in, but UNIT have invoked Gallifrey.”

 

“I’ll go see him now General.”

 

“Thanks…oh, and can you find some quarters for Lady Penelope?  She can’t stay on base -  Parker can help when he gets back from the surface.”

 

“F.A.B. General… I mean, yes Ma’am.”  He may have spent close to twenty years working with  Samantha Carter on her motorbikes and known her since she was a Captain, but his heart was in his mouth when he realised what he’d said and he saw that the General had realised too.  It felt like a very long moment whilst he waited to see whether he’d finally found the invisible line that he should not have crossed

 

“I wanted to be Alan.”  She spoke quickly and quietly, completely seriously and, for a split second, he wondered if she was cross but then, then she smiled and it was the smile that he remembered seeing on a young, brilliant Captain who didn’t yet know how brilliantly she would light up the universe whilst bamboozling her Colonel with her ‘technobabble’ and ‘doohickeys’. With a final “thanks Siler,” the General that Captain had become, turned and jogged up the corridor to catch up with the others at the briefing room, rank and decorum be damned.  It was time, finally, after fifteen years for her and who knew how long for the Doctor: she had Victorians with tea services in the briefing room, a horse and carriage in the Gate Room and the Tardis on her way.

 

Gallifrey, the most restricted code word mission in the history of Stargate Command, was a go.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... thank you darklioness82 for putting up with my questions and snippets to read during this chapter's creation.
> 
> And thank you to you all for reading this far :-)
> 
> For those of you a little rusty on your Thunderbirds, Lady Penelope was the London agent for International Rescue, and Parker was her chauffeur. Alan Tracy was the astronaut 'pilot' of Thunderbird 3 (the space ship) who spent much of his time (when not on Tracy Island) on Thunderbird 5 (the space station) as the space monitor.
> 
> Oh, and for Doctor Who fans who don't know that much about Stargate SG1 minor characters etc, Sergeant Siler being injured and/or with a big wrench is a bit of a running theme/moment of light humour through the whole series, but he's also about the only person Sam ever lets touch her motorbikes (in canon. In fandom, Janet can obviously...*ahem*... yes, well, we've all read the fics ;-) )


	11. Getting to Know You

 

“It’s good to see you mate,” said Max, thumping Parker on his back in friendly greeting as the two friends walked back to the SGC entrance where Jake Spirelli was waiting to show them back down to the briefing room.

 

“Yeah…”

 

“You alright?” asked Max, stopping in an empty parking space that appeared to be reserved for the Base Chief Medical Officer, wanting to find out what was up with his friend before they got back inside.

 

“Yeah… just hitting me, where I am,” shrugged Parker, glancing down at his own frock coat, riding gloves and knee high shiny leather boots and then looking at Max’s black battledress with rubber soled black lace up boots and his friend’s very 21st century body armour and gun, which was clipped to his vest.

 

“You need a minute?” Ignoring the snow, Max was happy to stand with Parker for as long as he needed to adjust - on paper it always sounded like a relatively easy posting for any UNIT soldier with previous experience with one of the army cavalry regiments as it came with a comfortable billet, good food (Jenny Flint’s reputation as an unrivalled cook/housekeeper was intact 125 years in the future) and excellent stable facilities for Madame Vastra’s very good coach horses.  In practice, Max knew it was a fair bit tougher than it sounded, as the posting was not without its dangerous moments and being posted to 1890s Central London was hardly a stress free location for a child of the late 20th century.

 

“Thanks… actually, the weird part is not being in London.  I can cope with the 21st Century, but America... “ Parker shrugged, “I know, I sound barmy…” the word sounded strange to his ears, having spent the last 5 months (since his last leave) with the speech patterns of an 1890s coachman from somewhere vaguely near what Max knew as Shoreditch.

 

“No, I get it.  It’s not like we’re at the Tower.  Even Dr Stewart was noticing, and you know what she’s like…”

 

“Yeah.  Hey, congrats on that,” said Parker, suddenly realising that Kate Stewart had been treating him as the UNIT Troop Commander, “when did that promotion come through?”

 

“About 5 minutes before you arrived - some local affiliate got a bit too 'up close and personal’ when we formed a joint escort with the local Command…”

 

“With the Boss?” asked Parker, eyes wide with amazement.  In his experience, both Kate Stewart and Madame Vastra had tongues that could bring a man to his knees - one with words and one with venom.

 

“Argued protocol with her, or tried to.  And he made us hold a line that was so close Osgood got a gun in the bum…”

 

“Ouch, and I don’t mean for Osgood.”

 

“I know… Mum’s gonna roast someone…” Max suddenly stopped, realising what he’d said.

 

“No worries man, it’s only me out here,” reassured Parker, returning his friend’s earlier thump on the back in a reassuring ‘friendly but soldiery’ hug.

 

“Thanks… it’s not that we deliberately don’t want people to know, it just… doesn’t come up very often.”

 

“Yeah, and you go to all that trouble to conceal the family resemblance,” teased Parker, knowing that at 6ft 4 inches with a build more resembling his rugby-playing Fijian born Army Officer father, there was no way anyone would ever expect there to be any sort of familial relationship between the British UNIT head and Max, despite both using Stewart as their surname ‘in the office’.

 

“Oi!” Max playfully shoved Parker.  “Actually, I doubt she’ll remember, not after that stunt the Professor pulled.  Did you see Osgood’s face?”

 

“Nah, missed it… But I heard the Boss’s growl when the Professor planted a smacker on Osgood.  Shall we go back in?  The tea will be ready and I could murder a cuppa.”

 

“Yeah, a brew would be good.”  Amiably, the two friends resumed their walk back towards the base entrance, “and I might even find you a jaffa cake, but it’ll cost ya!”  Parker sighed as he removed his tall hat, and brushed the snow from its top as they rejoined Jake who, only in his shirt sleeves, had waited inside whilst Max and Parker waved River Song off to her dance-date with the Doctor.

 

“Fine, I’ll get you one of Jenny’s scones… but I want at least 4 jaffa cakes for it!”

 

“Deal…” and, with a final stamp to clear their boots of snow, Max and Parker, with Jake’s assistance, set off back through the maze of corridors and lifts (or elevators, as Jake reminded Parker) to return to the briefing room.  It was time to find out what the rest of the day would bring.

* * *

  
  


It was, thought Janet as she sipped the rather excellent cup of tea that Jenny had poured out from the teapot, almost impossible to feel anything other than calm whilst drinking tea from a fine bone china cup and saucer.  And she really shouldn’t have a second scone, but they really were impressively light and not at all crumbly, despite the generous quantities of butter and fruit that clearly formed the basis for the recipe.

 

“Have another scone Doctor Fraiser,” encouraged Madame Vastra, pushing the plate towards the her, surprising Janet, “and no, Silurians such as myself are not telepathic, but it does not take a detective of my calibre to identify what thought is preoccupying you, even if you are an American ape.”

 

“I…” Janet wasn’t quite sure how to interpret that - they’d only completed introductions a few moments earlier and Janet had not yet worked out how to read Madame Vastra’s tone or voice.

 

“Don’t mind her Miss, I mean Doctor.”  Jenny corrected herself whilst shooting a rather pointed look at Vastra which did cause Kate to smirk briefly behind her teacup.  “My wife’s just a daft lizard from the dawn of time - and Boston’s a bit recent like.”

 

“Boston?” Smiling, Janet did indeed help herself to a second scone, “and call me Janet.”

 

“She means your revolution,” explained Osgood, jumping in quickly before Kate could say anything - Osgood wasn’t sure Madame Vastra had sufficiently recovered from the journey to appreciate the sorts of comments Kate might offer, at least, not for another cup or two probably, no matter how long ago (in either timeline) they’d first met.

 

“A waste of good tea,” grumbled Vastra, taking another sip from her teacup, “but I apologise, Doctor Fraiser, it is River Song who has made me a grumpy, ‘daft lizard’ and I should not be so impolite."

 

“Boston is recent,” observed Kate thoughtfully, returning her teacup to its saucer, “well, as recent this tea service.”

 

“It is?” Janet was pleased that she’d returned her saucer to the table a moment before Kate had started speaking, otherwise she thought she might have dropped it.

 

“Actually Katie, that is incorrect.  This tea service was made in 1760.”  Vastra frowned when she heard Jenny fail to smother her laughter.

 

“I think, Madame Vastra,” tried Osgood, attempting to soothe potentially ruffled scales and not look at ‘Katie’, “that a 16 year difference is not considered to be significant given the tea service and the United States are respectively 255 and 239 years old, although about an hour ago I suppose they were both much younger, for you that is...” pondered Osgood, trying to work out if there was a better way she could have expressed her point.

 

“Weren’t we all?” muttered Kate quietly, although not quietly enough for Osgood to not give her a sharp kick under the table.

 

“I take your point, Osgood,” agreed Vastra, raising her teacup in salute.

 

“When’s the Doctor joining us?” asked Jenny, not having expected River Song’s rapid departure for a dancing date with the Time Lord, but slightly relieved she had - it wasn’t that Jenny didn’t like her friends, for she did, a lot, but sometimes it was, well, exhausting trying to keep up with them both.

 

“Tuesday,” said Kate, Sam and Vastra simultaneously.

 

“Oh.”  Jenny thought for a moment, “is it still Friday?” she asked finally, not sure why she expected it to be the same day of the week now as when they’d left Paternoster Row but unable to think of a reason why it wouldn’t be.

 

“Yes, in November if that helps at all.”  Osgood had no idea which Friday Jenny had expected it to be and was reasonably confident that ‘Black Friday’ was not a term that had existed in Victorian London.

 

“Why?” asked Jenny, only to clarify her question, “I mean, why Tuesday?”  It was, thought Osgood and Janet, looking at each other and quickly realising that they were both in the dark as much as Jenny was, a perfectly reasonable question.

 

“Because it’s chewy.”  

 

There was a long silence as everyone present considered this from their own perspective: for Osgood and Jenny, who had both met the Doctor often enough to recognise the sort of logic that made amusing sense to him, they were happy to accept this as an explanation even if they could not understand it; for Janet, who had never met the Doctor or had any idea what they were really talking about, she was prepared to accept this at face value - after all, it was no more strange than an alien nurse dispensing physiotherapy advice in the same breath as a death threat as part of a first introduction.  Strax wasn’t listening (why did human females have to speak at a frequency that gave Sontarans a headache?), but was instead trying to work out if the Splasheymen spies in his boots were migrating up to join the forces trying to infiltrate this place by concealing themselves at his knees, and if so, what was their mission and how could he defeat them and still keep his toes?  (It didn’t occur to him that his socks were now absorbing the water in his boots, making his shins feel damp, which was probably a good thing because Jenny wasn’t sure when they’d get a chance for him to get changed into some dry clothes).  Vastra was unconcerned with when the Doctor would arrive and was instead currently trying to place the scents she could taste in the air, effectively testing River Song’s conclusions but via a less disruptive method.  And Kate… Kate was puzzled.

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“He told me,” said Sam Carter, not understanding Kate’s reaction.

 

“When?”

 

“When I met him, fifteen years ago…” Sam paused, trying to work out what might be causing this rather unexpected cross-examination from the UK UNIT Head.  “...I wasn’t on Earth at the time,” she added, wondering if that was the problem - she vaguely recalled that Kate was the lead UNIT contact with the Doctor, irrespective of where on Earth he appeared - she could quite understand Kate would be frustrated if there were ‘undeclared’ contacts happening elsewhere.  Actually, thought Sam, frustrated was probably a compliment to Kate’s restraint - the SGC had hardly coped well when the Russians had briefly been running their own ‘Gate.

 

“Oh, yes.  Of course.  I forget that you do that.  Sorry…” Kate trailed off as she started to try to work out whether the UNIT protocols surrounding ‘Doctor’ contact could be applied to non-Companion humans not actually on Earth at the time of contact, and if so, were they retrospectively enforceable?

 

“No problem,” said Sam, equally thoughtfully, realising that Kate didn’t appear to know as much as Sam had expected her to, which posed interesting questions, the first two of which were: who knew what? And since when did they know it?

 

“General?”

 

“Yes Doctor?” Sam was grateful for her wife’s willingness to join the conversation, even if she had no idea where Janet was going to take it.

 

“Could I take this opportunity to raise the question of regulation 127, specifically section 8?” asked Janet, knowing that Sam, for all her brilliance when it came to solving and fixing ‘stuff’ and knowing (through a mixture of instinct and experience) what was the right way to do something in any given moment, had never been able to pinpoint regulations by their numeric reference.

 

“Of course Doctor.”  Sam had no idea what Janet was going to say but had total faith in her ability to contribute to the slightly stiff atmosphere that was forming as a result of Kate’s reaction to her admission that she’d met the Doctor fifteen years ago.

 

“As I’ve already mention, my role here as Chief Medical Officer includes responsibilities for the health of all personnel on this base.  This includes off-world visitors who join us for an extended period of time.”  Janet paused to have a sip of her still excellent tea, relieved to sense that everyone was listening calmly.  “Madame Vastra, Jenny, Commander Strax and Bombardier Parker - I would be grateful if you would come to the Infirmary for a medical examination,” Janet sensed Strax was about to interrupt her but he was silenced by a low hiss from Madame Vastra who, based on how Jenny was looking at the Silurian, was clearly no more relaxed than Strax but was more patient.  “This is not because I am considering you to be a threat to the Base, but rather, that I am concerned that the Base might be a threat to you.”

 

“I don’t understand Janet,” began Jenny, feeling comfortable talking to the petit doctor who, along with Osgood, made her feel most at ease, especially when they’d both encouraged her to just call them by their names, without titles or ranks, “what sort of threat?”

 

“Although the teams who travel off-world try very carefully not to bring back any contagens,” Janet saw Jenny frown so clarified, “that is things that might make them unwell after their return, it is not always possible.  On occasion, we end up with an infection on the Base that has come from off-world.  As CMO, it is my responsibility to contain the cause of the illness, to stop it leaving the Base.  And my best method for that is treating the people who are sick, but to do that effectively when time might be short, I already need to know something about my patient.”

 

“But Parker and me are ‘uman!”

 

“Yes we are, Miss Flint,” explained Parker quietly, his presence virtually forgotten by everyone as, on returning from the surface, the 3 men had sat quietly at the end of the briefing room, listening but mainly focussed on eating scones, “but we are Victorian humans able to cope with the colds and sicknesses of the London we live in.  Our bodies therefore have the potential to be as different for Dr Fraiser’s team as, say, Strax’s or Madame Vastra.”

 

“Hardly, Mr Parker,” corrected Vastra dryly, “but I take your point Dr Fraiser.  I will oblige you with the opportunity to learn about Silurian anatomy and health sciences so that, should we be caught up in a local event that puts us at risk, your solution for your apes can be adapted for me.  Strax will also oblige.”

 

“Thank you, Madame Vastra.”  Janet wasn’t sure whether she’d been complimented or insulted, but decided to follow Sam’s earlier lead and just accept the offer politely.

 

“Will you do it?” asked Jenny cautiously, drawing confidence from her wife’s acceptance of the request but still uncertain.  Apart from Strax occasionally waving his scanner at her and muttering, she wasn’t sure she really knew what a ‘medical examination’ might mean.

 

“Of course!”  Janet smiled reassuringly at the clearly nervous Victorian, “and if you would like to have your wife with you, that’s absolutely fine.”

 

“Alright then,” agreed Jenny, reaching under the table for Vastra’s hand, “I’ll do it.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“What about UNIT, Dr Fraiser?  Apart from Parker, obviously.  Do you want to look at the dogs?” asked Kate, knowing that Parker’s medical wasn’t a surprise for him, since exactly the same protocol was in place at the Tower, although there they didn’t both couching it in such sympathetic terms.  Anyone arriving from an earlier time who wasn’t travelling by Tardis was subject to a thorough medical and, if necessary, isolation and treatment.  The NHS was over-stretched as it was without an accidental reintroduction of smallpox thanks to a bit of careless time-travelling.

 

“Unless you’ve had any health changes or exotic travels since your last visit, I don’t need to see you Kate.  And the…” Janet was about to say ‘dogs’ but couldn’t bring herself to, “...I’m sorry Kate, why do you refer to the UNIT troops as ‘dogs’?”

 

“Military obsession with call signs and code names,” said Kate easily, not remotely surprised at the question, although her tone clearly suggested that she felt the ‘military obsession’ was excessive and unnecessary.  “Anything associated with UK Unit is canine based.”

 

“Canine based?” asked Sam, struggling not to outwardly look too amused.  It was at moments like this that it was hard to believe that Kate was the daughter of an extremely respected and very talented military man and was herself a woman who, on a daily basis, had more clout and command in her little finger than most of the senior military officers in NATO.  It was, however, easy to see that she was an incredibly intelligent and natural civilian leader whose influence extended over the military because she’d earned their respect and support, rather than because she bought into the bravado.

 

“Greyhound One,” said Osgood, pointing at Kate who playfully grimaced and looked at her dusty blonde hair, earning a chuckle from Janet, “Greyhound Two,” continued Osgood, pointing at herself, “Max?”

 

“Bulldog One to Four.”

 

“There are others that go by ‘Terrier’ and ‘Labrador’ depending on what their roles are…” continued Osgood, repositioning her glasses, “...but you get the picture.”

 

“What are we?” asked Vastra, the warrior side of her finding a reassuring symmetry with her own, Silurian experiences.

 

“Paternoster 1.”

 

“Appropriate, but I am not familiar with a canine species of that name.”

 

“There isn’t.  That was the military being imaginative,” said Kate, dryly, earning a snort of what she knew to be amusement from Vastra and a chuckle from Jenny.

 

“They live at 13 Paternoster Row, and are collectively known as the ‘Paternoster Gang’,” explained Osgood, sensing the SGC personnel would find the clarification helpful.

 

“And we ain’t a gang,” protested Jenny, thinking of the true gangs that they had in the East End and other, less endearing parts of London that they generally avoided unless they had swords in hand.

 

“No, you’re more of a trio,” agreed Kate kindly, pleased that Jenny appeared to be growing in confidence now the surprise of their arrival had passed.  “You were saying about UNIT medicals Doctor?  I haven’t been anywhere ‘exotic’ as you put it, although I wouldn’t recommend New Mexico.” prompted Kate, returning them to their original topic.

 

“Of course.  None for you then, or the Bulldog teams as, if necessary, I can get their records sent across from UNIT.”

 

“And me?” asked Osgood cautiously, gratefully accepting the hand that Kate discreetly offered in support, the gesture unseen as it was shielded from general view by the table.

 

“It would be easier, and quicker, for me to prescribe you some more inhalers if I could examine you, but I can get your prescription from UNIT if you would prefer?” offered Janet, not quite sure what was causing Osgood to have these odd outbreaks of nerves but beginning to be quite confident in her understanding of the relationship between Kate and Osgood, judging by the looks that were quickly exchanged.

 

“I understand, and an exam is fine.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“In that case Doctor,” said Sam, standing, “I suggest that you and our guests head to the Infirmary and Kate and I will follow in a few minutes?” asked Sam, glancing down the table at her UNIT counterpart who promptly agreed to this proposal, recognising that there was potentially a fair bit to discuss, and quickly.

 

“Of course General.”  Janet was too experienced, both as the SGC CMO and as Sam Carter’s best friend and wife, to not see what was being engineered, “and should you wish to come down sooner, feel free to use my office.”

 

“Thank you Doctor, we won’t be long.”  If anyone was surprised that it was Kate who said this, not Sam, no one said anything, being either too polite or too caught up in their own thoughts as they all stood to leave.  Apart from one.

 

“Strax!” called Jenny, seeing the Sontaran still in his seat, staring hard at the point just in front of his nose, thinking hard.

 

“STRAX!” This time it was Madame Vastra who shouted, very loudly.

 

“Yes Madame Vastra?” Strax, on finally hearing his name, obediently scrambled to his feet and turned towards her.

 

“What’s wrong Strax?” asked Jenny kindly, noticing how crestfallen he looked.

 

“My feet are wet,” came the quiet grumble from their clearly upset and no doubt uncomfortable friend, for Sontaran feet were surprisingly sensitive.

 

“We can dry them in the Infirmary,” offered Janet quickly, recognising the telltale signs of an alien about to become quite distressed.

 

“And while you wait, you can have a jelly sherbet fancy,” promised Jenny, knowing that the fizzy sweets could take Strax’s mind off anything, including wet feet.  Since they also had a habit of making him even more hyperactive and unmanageable than he usually was, she generally tried not to encourage him eating them, but he had been very good through the introductions, only threatening to kill General Carter twice.

  
“Can I have two? Both feet are wet…” explained Strax earnestly, putting the chairs tidily back under the table before, with another of his stiff little bobbing bows to Sam and Kate, setting off to the infirmary with Janet and the rest of the Paternoster ‘Trio’, reacquiring Janet’s SGC escort (which, as per protocol, now also had a UNIT escort alongside it) as they left the briefing room.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading - for those Who fans currently scratching their heads and going 'Max? I thought canon established Kate's son to be called Gordy', please a) bear with me :-) and b) rewatch Kate's autobiographical introduction of herself in Death in Heaven. And no, you're not getting anything more from me at this stage, as, to quote River.... "Spoilers...."


	12. Is this weird yet?

 

“Another cup?” asked Kate as she looked inside the teapot, pleased to see there was enough left in the pot to stretch to another cup or two, especially if the second cup took a fair bit of milk.

 

“I think I’ll switch to coffee,” said Sam, nodding in thanks to Jake when he made to head to her office to make her a cup of fresh coffee rather than risk the contents of the ever-present thermal jugs that could be found in the briefing room, day or night.

 

As Kate busied herself with pouring out the tea and adding milk, Sam considered what she knew about the current situation that she and her fellow scientist-cum-commander found themselves in, which, now she thought about it, was precious little.  However, before she could say anything, Kate launched in.

 

“You don’t know what’s going on, do you?”

 

“Nope.”  It was a testament to how quickly the two women had developed their working alliance and professional friendship when Sam had first been appointed Base Commander that she didn’t bother dissembling: each had too much respect for the other.  “At least, I have a slight feeling I should know more than I do, but apart from how to respond to UNIT invoking Gallifrey…” Sam trailed off, interested in the effect that word had on Kate, which in turn made her even more certain that there was something else she should know, maybe had known, but currently didn’t know.

 

“What is Gallifrey?” asked Kate, trying to keep her tone of voice neutral so as to not lead Sam into counter-asking her own question.

 

“As in the code word classified mission?” asked Sam, more to check she was about to answer the question Kate intended to ask rather than delay answering.  On seeing Kate’s nod, Sam took a moment to order her thoughts, before deciding that there was little to be gained by trying to play games with Kate.  “Honestly?  Hardly anything.  I’m not even sure why it’s so tightly classified, at least, not now there’s the protocols in place between the SGC and UNIT.”

 

“How classified is it?  For the SGC?”

 

“5 on-base when you called - I granted it to Jake Spirelli, my assistant, this morning.  On your side?”  It was subtle, but Sam saw enough of Kate’s reaction to guess that the answer surprised her.

 

“Technically only me, but that’s only because I had to know what code word to give you.  That more people don’t know is more because…” Kate wondered how to articulate her point without causing offence, only for Sam to be already there.

 

“...because it’s so minor you don’t bother to mention it?”

 

“Basically, yes.  What is it?” Kate decided it was time for the direct approach, particularly if she was going to get to Osgood in time for her medical.

 

“In a nutshell 4 things: let you and your staff onto the Base, which I’ve done; enable you to have the necessary access to authorise the arrival through the Stargate of your officers, which I’ve done.”  Sam paused whilst Jake re-entered and gave her the mug of ‘proper’ coffee before leaving again.  “Let your Officer, which I think is the Doctor, onto Base ‘by any means’, which presumably means by Tardis?”

 

“And will happen on Tuesday,” confirmed Kate, deciding not to get distracted with how and when Sam and the Doctor met, nevermind which Doctor it was.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Anything else?”

 

“Make every effort to assist UNIT in returning their officer to full operational status.”

 

“That’s it?”

 

“That’s it.”

 

“Dear Lord, no wonder the military never get anything done…” Kate’s assessment was instinctive, only to realise who she was talking to, “sorry, but…”

 

“Don’t apologise,” said Sam, dismissively, not entirely disagreeing - certainly she was no clearer on what was warranting the secrecy, although she could understand that it might have made more sense when she wasn’t in Command as technically, the mission classification did mean that the Base Commander merely knew the UNIT officer arriving by ‘any means available’ could have their identity confirmed by both her and UNIT, but there was no guarantee she’d have been in the galaxy. “At least, don’t apologise if you can tell me why you’re here?  And what I’m supposed to do to assist UNIT?”

 

“As far as UNIT’s concerned, the Doctor needs our help because the Tardis is shutting down,” Kate took a sip of her tea thoughtfully, “she’s getting cross that the Doctor isn’t letting her have a proper service.”

 

“The Tardis is sentient?” asked Sam, not at all surprised with the idea of a ship having a gender or needing proper servicing.

 

“Yes, technically she’s called herself ‘Idris’ but has also chosen ‘Sexy’ as a nickname,” said Kate matter-of-factly, wondering what name the Tardis would be responding to when she arrived.  Part of Kate wanted to see what would happen if she insisted on being called ‘Sexy’, but the part that knew she’d end up shouting the name to a large number of military types rather hoped Idris would be sensible and co-operate with them, or at least, all of them except the Doctor.

 

“I remember him calling her that quite a lot,” agreed Sam, thoughtfully, “but I hadn’t realised she was actually responding to it.”  She took a sip of her coffee, “so I’m basically providing you with a Tardis workshop?”

 

“I think it’s rather more than that…” observed Kate, placing her briefcase on the table and opening it.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Fifteen years ago, this was delivered by the Doctor to my predecessor for safe-keeping until such time as it was needed.  That’s the only other instruction UNIT had.  When the Tardis needs a Service, invoke Gallifrey at the SGC and deliver this,”  Kate placed a parcel, wrapped in brown paper and tied up with parcel string, on the table and returned her now closed briefcase to the floor, “back to you.”  She stood up and carried the parcel down the room, placing carefully on the table in front of Sam.

 

“What do you mean, back to us?” she asked, not looking at the parcel but looking up at Kate.

 

“Not us, you Sam.”  Kate gestured to the parcel, “that’s your handwriting, isn’t it?”

 

Confused, Sam looked at the parcel which, save for an old-fashioned cardboard luggage label, was completely featureless.  Reaching forwards, she turned the label around and, in block capitals that she immediately recognised as her own, she read:

 

FAO: UNIT, LONDON

DELIVER TO SGC WHEN NEEDED

CONTENTS - INTRODUCTORY TARDIS MECHANICS AND OPERATION

 

“You don’t remember writing that, do you?” asked Kate kindly, sitting down next to Sam, beginning to see what might have happened.

 

“No…”

 

“Marvellous.”  Kate resisted the urge to pinch her the bridge of her nose in frustration.  Why did even the most straightforward things that involved the Doctor often end up so complicated?  

 

“Memory wipe.  He must have done a memory wipe on me...” said Sam, chewing on her lip as she thought through the logical possibilities.

 

“But those don’t work on you…” Frowning, Kate thought back to the first time she had welcomed Brigadier-General Samantha Carter to UNIT’s offices at the Tower, which, as with all her predecessors since the Joint Working Protocols were implemented, included a tour of the Black Archive.  However, unlike her predecessors, and at Sam’s own prompting, before Kate showed her anything, they tried the memory wipe which all Black Archive Visitors and Staff without the highest levels of clearance had on their departure. To UNIT’s surprise, the memory wipe didn’t work.

 

“Now, they don’t work on me now.” Sam paused to do a quick bit of mental arithmetic.  “Our theory is the memory wipers at the Black Archive don’t work on me because of the naquadah in my blood, yes?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I didn’t become a host to Jolinar until the next mission I did… so, if we assume there is only one memory wiping technology that the Doctor uses…”

 

“Then who knows how long you spent on the Tardis compiling that….” Kate gestured towards the packet, “...before he brought you back with an only partial memory,” concluded Kate, deciding that the single memory wiping technology assumption was, whilst flawed, a reasonable working theory.

 

“Something tells me I would have known what I was doing and what was going to happen…” At least, from what Sam could remember from her previous meeting with the Doctor, that seemed logical.

 

“Oh yes, his memory wipes are always with the noblest of intentions,” which wasn’t the same as asking for permission, but Kate decided not to dwell on that, at least, not with Sam, and not now.

 

“If this was the other way around…” Sam gestured between them, “...and I’d brought half a dozen SGC, uh, people and security escort…” the General in Sam was wincing at the imprecision, but she really didn’t know how else to describe Kate’s ‘associates’, “...into the Tower in these circumstances, what would you do?”  

 

“Honestly?  After medicals, probably invite Jenny and Vastra to stay with me for the weekend,” said Kate, not expecting the question but not needing very much time to think about her answer.  The Tower’s guest quarters were not the most comfortable and, whilst historically charming and presenting a unique experience, not exactly hospitable, “but then, as you might have gathered, Vastra’s effectively an old friend of the family…”

 

“And Strax?”

 

“Probably get some of the dogs to take him to Salisbury Plain so he could blow some things up.”  Of everything that Kate might have said, Sam had certainly not expected that to be a suggestion, and her face clearly showed it, as Kate continued, “the Sontarans are a race bred specifically for war.  Their highest compliment is to declare that they look forward to killing you on the fields of battle, and their greatest insult is tending to the sick or wounded.”

 

“That’s…”

 

“Odd?  Makes perfect sense if you’re cloned by the million in order to maintain a state of perpetual war.  Think of Strax as sentenced to community service,” suggested Kate helpfully, returning to the other end of the briefing room in order to retrieve her tea cup.

 

“And blowing things up?”

 

“Reward for good behaviour.  He only offered to kill you, didn’t actually try,” shrugged Kate, realising she really needed to congratulate Jenny and Parker on their hard work in that area, as the little Sontaran did seem to be doing relatively well, all things considered.

 

“Which would just leave Parker, Max and his teams…”

 

“Parker might want to go home, but would probably go with Strax, and Max…” Kate thought for a moment, wondering what to say before deciding that the truth was the most straightforward, “...I’d leave it up to him whether he stayed in barracks with his teams or came home: he’s my son.” She smiled when she saw Sam blink but otherwise remain fairly neutral, “I adopted him when he was 14.”

 

“We, I mean, Janet, adopted Cassie, Cassandra when she was 8,” said Sam, stumbling slightly as she initially forgot that technically Janet had adopted Cassie and Sam was an ‘honorary aunt’.  By the time they could actually be publically more transparent in their relationship as a trio, Cassie was away at College and it was somewhat immaterial, but nevertheless greatly treasured by all three women.

 

After a moment or two of quiet thought, as both women reflected on their children and their lives in general, Sam became conscious that, for whatever reason, Kate had been keen to get down to the Infirmary sooner rather than later, something that Sam was happy to oblige with, having a rather urgent need to talk to her wife.

 

“How secure does that need to be?” Sam gestured to ‘that’, the neatly packaged bundle.

 

“Not very,” dismissed Kate, having considered their overall situation for a moment, “it was in the Black Archive, but that was more for tidiness than security.  It’s been on a shelf for 15 years, barely a blink for the Archive, but plenty of time to be lost in my office.  I’ve got more sensitive stuff on my desk.”

 

“In your office which has the Crown Jewels on the shelves,” teased Sam, remembering seeing Kate’s office which, as Osgood had already reminded Kate earlier that morning, was rather more shiny, sparkly and overall, generally more secure than your average office.

 

“Says the woman for whom other galaxies are easier to get to from her desk than the Ladies’ loo,” countered Kate, starting to regret that final cup of tea.

 

“In which case, shall we join the others in the Infirmary?  I’ll get Jake to secure this in my office,” suggested Sam, picking up the packet.

 

“Of course.”  Kate stood and looked around the briefing room, seeing the remnants of the perfectly ‘proper’ Victorian late morning tea Jenny had produced with the assistance of some 21st century hot water and milk, which in turn reminded her that somewhere was a carriage full of trunks, not to mention Lady Penelope.  Even by her standards, this was turning out to be a rather unconventional day.

 

“I know we both deal with aliens on a daily basis…” said Kate thoughtfully, shoving her hands in her trouser pockets.

 

“Yeah, time travel too, some days…” added Sam, shifting the packet she’d sent herself so she could hold it more comfortably.

 

“Most days…” corrected Kate, before adding, as an apologetic afterthought, “...different sort of alien.”

 

“This is a bit weird, though? Even for you? I mean, they are your aliens…”

 

“That parcel you sent yourself would appear to dispute that,” Kate’s instinctive ‘defend my aliens because no one else has the right to tell them off’ kicked in before she had entirely noticed, although she did quickly add, “sorry, habit.  But yes, this is a bit unusual, even for me.  But I generally find that it’s amazing what can be achieved if you have a brilliant woman with a plan, and it seems we have a few of those to hand for this.”

 

“Plans?” asked Sam, glancing at the package she was still holding, decidedly curious as to what she’d sent herself (she was no longer disputing that fact) but knowing now was not the moment to investigate, for one thing, she had an infirmary full of time-travellers and a Base that still had a busy Friday to work through.

 

“Probably, but I actually meant brilliant women… there seem to be a few of us…”

 

“Does it have anything to do with the Tardis herself?” wondered Sam, intrigued by this new angle which, to her shame, she hadn’t noticed until Kate pointed it out, being too used to expecting to see a roomful of mainly middle-aged white men.

 

“Who knows… but I’m sure we’ll work it out,” not least, thought Kate, because she was certain Vastra knew more than she was letting on, and as for River… Kate had seen enough magic shows as a child to recognise a smoke and mirrors trick when she saw one, although her shock at seeing the scarf seemed real enough.

 

“We usually do,” agreed Sam, squaring her shoulders and heading to the door, “Jake?  Kate and I are going to the infirmary… secure this in my office please, then catch us up.”

 

“Yes Ma’am.” Accepting the package from his boss without looking at it, Jake remained standing as he watched the two individually formidable and brilliant women head off to the Infirmary.  Only once they were gone did he look down at what he was holding which, he realised, was actually upside down, as he could feel the knot and label in his hands.  Written, on the back of the parcel, in block capitals that he’d learnt to recognise as belonging to the General he read:

 

FROM: SAMANTHA CARTER, CAPT. USAF

TO: SAMANTHA CARTER, GEN. USAF

VIA: UNIT, LONDON

 

Turning the package over and reading the label made even less sense to him, not yet being aware of what a TARDIS was or why an operations manual that was clearly needed at the SGC had been stored at UNIT in London, although after seeing the UNIT team arrive through the Stargate from the 1890s and escort a lady up to the surface so she could attend a dance two millennia in the future, he was at least prepared to accept that time-travel was possible.

 

“I wonder if the General’s having fun yet?” was his only thought as he set off to the Infirmary as ordered.  He wasn’t sure what he would describe today as, but it was certainly turning out to be different, even for the SGC.

  
And it was still only Friday morning - there was still plenty of time for the fun to start...


	13. It's a matter of perspective

“Knees.”

 

“My love?”  Vastra realised that whatever her wife had just said, she obviously hadn’t been listening properly.

 

“Knees,” repeated Jenny, deciding that the funny padded table with wheels was probably safe to stand next to, “I ‘aven’t seen any knees.”

 

“Indeed.”  Vastra’s instinct was to agree with such a pronouncement without question, although she did proceed to quickly review everyone and everything they had seen so far, “you are quite correct.”  She had no idea what was causing this sudden interest in the trocho-ginglymus joint located in the lower limb but for once, her sense of self-preservation kicked in just quick enough to ensure she did not voice her question aloud.

 

“Do you think we’ll see any?” asked Jenny, looking around the room, which happened to be one of the SGC Infirmary’s private rooms which could, if necessary, become the reasonably comfortable ‘home away from home’ should someone need to remain in the care of Dr Fraiser’s medical team for longer than a couple of days but not be in a position to transfer to the nearby Academy Hospital.

 

“I…” Completely at a loss, Vastra abandoned her detailed inspection of the room and moved towards Jenny, who she could see was frowning, “...had no idea you were so interested in knees Jenny dear.”

 

“I’m not…” Jenny caught her lip between her teeth, which for a brief moment had the rather startling effect of making her facial expression resemble a grimace, “... but before, I mean, last time, in the future…” Much to her frustration, Jenny couldn’t quite settle on a way to articulate what she meant.  But her attempts had been enough for Vastra to work out what her observant love had noticed - unlike in Roman times, the military of both UNIT and the SGC appeared to favour long trousers.

 

“Not all periods of human history favour the routine exposure of the knee.  I think it unlikely you will have to see too many,” explained Vastra carefully, trying not to show her amusement or worse, laugh.

 

“Good.”  Jenny confirmed her opinion with a sharp nod of her head.  Now that her most pressing concern had been dealt with, she could start to take stock of their situation.  “Not many windows.  They scared of the sun?”

 

“This is a military establishment constructed entirely underground, with its engineering and construction not dissimilar to those created by my people for our hibernation…” Although its mention was not unexpected (since she was the one who had brought it up), the mention of her people always caused Vastra to pause for a brief second and her shoulders to tense a fraction as she was momentarily distracted by her memories.  Unperturbed, Jenny waited in silence, knowing her wife would continue speaking again soon - in fact, the pause would have almost certainly not have been noticed had anyone else been in the room with them.  “According to the Doctor, such engineering was quite common during the part of the 20th century called the ‘Cold War’.”

 

“Didn’t they have any fires?” asked Jenny, wondering how the future (compared to the time she’d had her breakfast) that was now in the past (compared to the time she’d had her most recent cup of tea) had forgotten something so basic.  Although, now she thought about it, she had yet to see a fireplace since they’d arrived and was rather warm despite spending a fairly long time sat still doing not very much whilst they all worked out what everyone was called and what they knew, which hadn’t seemed very much to the Victorian. 

 

“It was a ‘cold’ war because the combatants were maintaining a level of threat  and alertness but took no direct action,” explained Vastra, remembering what she had learned over cups of tea and glasses of brandy in the study of Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart.  The Doctor had not intended for her to learn of the future conflicts the people of Earth would create, but even her meagre intellectual curiosity (by Silurian standards, hence her warrior status) had been exceptional by human standards and, as Kate’s father had put it, ‘the cat was out of the bag’.  “A bit like Strax and his campaign with the Moonites.”

 

“It didn’t feel cold when ‘e set fire to the woodshed…” muttered Jenny, remembering a rather heated ‘excitement’ in the early days of Strax’s residency at 13 Paternoster Row, “...they seem nice…”

 

“They are friends of the Doctor.”  Vastra’s voice acquired that light accent which Jenny knew was an indicator that her wife was taking slight offence to something.

 

“They seem nice…” repeated Jenny pointedly, raising her index finger in the timeless sign language for ‘don’t interrupt me’, “...and they were very kind to Strax.  Janet…” Jenny found it easier to call her new friends by their first names as she had not had time to become used to using their titles and surnames in the same way she had with River, “...even asked him what exercises he would recommend for Sam.”

 

“She did?  When?” Vastra hadn’t noticed.

 

“As we came down now.  You were talking to Parker…”  Jenny was still slightly put out that she hadn’t known about Parker’s true time, but was not going to make a fuss now, especially as she had a feeling it was the Doctor’s idea that her wife should keep it a secret from her.

 

“I was?  Oh, yes.  About Lady Penelope’s diet.”

 

“Hay and oats, with carrots, apples and the odd peppermint sweet,” said Jenny promptly, wondering what amongst that could interest her wife.

 

“Peppermint?” This was news to Vastra, “from whom?”

 

“Strax.  Parker showed ‘im the best ones to get.”

 

“He did?  He does?   What on earth for?  Is this wise?” Intrigued by this latest domestic discovery (it was turning out to be quite a day for them, one way and another), Vastra forgot her prim Victorian deportment and leant against the padded table, keen for her wife to continue.

 

“Accordin’ to Parker, ‘e, Strax I mean, wanted somethin’ that she’d like, you know, as a treat, so ‘e would become friendly-like with ‘er.  But it’s Strax, so he was actually thinkin’ she’s an enemy spyin’ on ‘im.”

 

“Of course.  Moonites and…” Vastra couldn’t quite work out what Strax would call the enemy race represented by Lady Penelope.

 

“Ladies.”

 

“Moonites and Ladies.”  Vastra smiled, seeing how it would make sense to Strax who never had grasped that virtually all other races apart from Sontarans had two genders.  “But how does he get the peppermint?  And is it wise?”

 

“He goes to the sweet shop… he spends tuppence on peppermints, unless Lady Penelope’s been difficult, which apparently is every week according to Strax, then it’s a bob.”

 

“A bob?  But that means…”

 

“That means he only has a bob for fizzy sherbets.  The rest of his pocket money goes in his secret place.”

 

“Dare I ask?” As fascinated as she was by this insight into their friend’s world within their own, she wasn’t sure she could cope with all the details - there were some things no self-respecting Silurian ever wanted to know about a Sontaran.

 

“‘is spare ‘elmet box, so says Parker.  2 an’ 6 each week.”  

 

Vastra did some quick mental arithmetic.

 

“That leaves 1 and 6…”

 

“Beer,” said Jenny quickly, knowing what her wife was thinking, “and when ‘e’s up to a pound in ‘is spare ‘elmet box ‘e goes to Glasgow for a weekend...” 

 

“...every eight weeks,” concluded Vastra, finishing her arithmetic, satisfied that it helped solve the mystery as to why, despite having every second weekend off if he wanted it, Strax elected to go to Glasgow for a long weekend every second month - no doubt he could get plenty of beer and trouble for his carefully saved pound.

 

“Yes.”  Jenny frowned, trying to remember why they’d started talking about this in the first place, “why were you talking about Lady Penelope’s food?”

 

“Because Kate Stewart,” Vastra had already worked out it was going to be important to stay on good terms with the UNIT Head and, watching the interactions between the UNIT and SGC personnel whilst they took tea and enjoyed Jenny’s scones, it was clear she was going to remain on better terms with her if she remembered to call her ‘Kate’ not ‘Katie’, “described the manure that was produced as ‘organic’, which is a term I was unfamiliar with in that context.”

 

“It must be a nice thing…” Jenny had no idea what the word meant, but she’d taken a liking to Kate, actually, she’d taken a liking to all of them except Sam, and that was only because she hadn’t known what to talk to the American General about.  “... she seemed nice, and they liked my scones.”

 

“Organic means natural food, without chemicals added to it, and in this time is considered a premium quality” explained Vastra, sharing her new-found knowledge, although she was not yet sure how chemicals could be added to food or for what purpose, “...and of course they liked your scones, for they are the finest in all of London and the Empire,” declared Vastra proudly, tapping her wife on the nose when she blushed at the compliment, “and, like their creator…” she took a half step forward so she could reach around Jenny, trapping her wife in a loose embrace, “...completely organic.”  Vastra liked collecting new words, saying them carefully, so as to make sure she enunciated them correctly, moving her lips and jaw in a slightly exaggerated fashion the first couple of times she used the word after discovering it as if she was tasting it or testing its temperature.

 

“And not alien?” asked Jenny quietly, realising her earlier fear hadn’t materialised.  She didn’t feel like she was at home in Paternoster Row, but she didn’t feel wrong either.

 

“And definitely not alien my love…”

 

* * *

  
  
  


“...and no more jumping about Strax!” called out Dr Fraiser good-humouredly, exiting the private room that she’d allocated to Commander Strax and Bombardier Parker.

 

“Yes Colonel Doctor,” came the almost mournful sounding response through the closing door, Strax having decided on his own unique form of address for Janet.

 

“Everything alright Doctor?” asked Sam, leading Kate Stewart into the Infirmary in time to hear the Sontaran’s acceptance of something.

 

“So far General, yes.” Janet turned and put the clipboard she was holding in the chart holder that was mounted on the wall by the door into the room she’d just exited, before approaching Sam and Kate, who were stood by an unoccupied bed.

 

“How’s Strax?” asked Kate, deciding this was one of those moments when it mattered that they were ‘her’ aliens.

 

“Calling me Colonel Doctor, which is an improvement on ‘boy’… is that a Sontaran convention?”

 

“Colonel Doctor? Who knows, but unlikely.  It’s probably so he doesn’t get you confused with the Doctor.  And he’s never understood that humans have two genders - we’re all boys to Strax, it’s one up from,” Kate cleared her throat in preparation for her Sontaran impression, “heu-mans.” 

 

“Bombardier Parker did try to explain as much, but he was a little hard to follow at the time…”  Janet trailed off as she tried to think how best to explain what had happened, but Kate beat her to it.

 

“Were those two wrestling again?” asked Kate, shoving her hands in her trouser pockets as she tried to not sound too exasperated.

 

“Wrestling?” asked Sam, looking at Janet with a mix of surprise and concern.  What were Kate’s aliens up to?

 

“Not wrestling, although now I think about it…” Janet couldn’t contain her smile when she looked up and saw how confused Sam was looking, prompting her to suggest, “...perhaps we should go to my office?”

 

“Where’s Osgood?” asked Kate, all to able to work out what had occurred, being very familiar with Strax’s eccentric reactions courtesy of Parker’s regular reports.

 

“Third door on the left, Madame Vastra and Ms Flint are next door.”

 

“Thanks.”  And, with a perfunctory nod and tight smile, hands still deep in her trouser pockets, Kate strode over to where her colleague was, leaving Sam and Janet to head into the Chief Medical Officer’s office.

 

“After you General,” invited Janet, encouraging Sam to precede her into the small office that was located just off the main infirmary.

 

“Thanks…” Chewing on her lower lip, deep in thought, Sam automatically headed for the chair at the end of Janet’s desk, which she’d sat in for many an hour over the years, either listening to Janet work through her thoughts or using Janet as her own second opinion: wearing stars on her shoulder boards hadn’t changed that.  “You ok Jan?” she asked, emerging from her ‘deep think’ once Janet was settled in her desk chair, the office door firmly shut.

 

“Fine, the hardest bit was making sure I didn’t laugh!”

 

“But wrestling?”  Despite seeing Janet in good humour, and clearly uninjured, Sam wasn’t easily put at ease..

 

“It wasn’t wrestling, although I can see…” Seeing how worried Sam still was, Janet forced herself to concentrate and explain succinctly. “It turns out that the Sontarans have surprisingly sensitive feet, for a war-mongering clone species at any rate, and Commander Strax’s feet were wet and cold.  Parker helped him into some scrubs and bundled up Strax’s feet in warm towels, to help them dry off and warm up,” explained Janet, trying to work out what had got her wife so on edge in the last twenty minutes or so since she’d left the Briefing Room.  “I arrived at this point.  Seems that Strax is a reluctant patient, and had only been persuaded to change into the scrubs if he then had a fizzy lemon sherbet, which is apparently a Victorian sweet he’s rather keen on.  I got the impression he would have become rather hyperactive had the towels and Parker not held him in one place.”

 

“But wrestling?” asked Sam, relaxing a little on hearing Janet’s explanation, but still, it didn’t sound entirely innocuous.

 

“I think you need to remember this is Kate Stewart Sam,” teased Janet gently, deciding she could probably dispense with rank and formality for a moment or two at least, “I think she’s worried about Osgood, and didn’t you tell me she was easier to work with once you realised she was more sarcastic when she was worried?”

 

“Mmm…” 

 

Like all the best doctors, Janet knew when the best ‘treatment’ she could provide was patient silence.  Therefore, as she had done on many an occasion in the past, she was content to start working through the paperwork that had managed to accumulate on her desk whilst she’d been away from the infirmary.  Soon she was almost fully absorbed in reviewing the charts for SG4, who it seemed were responding well to her latest treatment plan.  Furthermore, based on their current progress, they might actually be ready for release as soon as tomorrow, something that she would have almost thought impossible ten hours earlier when she’d been woken by that telephone call, almost impossible that was unless she’d spent the last decade doing her job.  Instead, she was very well versed in expecting the unexpected, however even that experience let her down when Sam did start talking again.

 

“Is it possible that I went off time-travelling without anyone knowing?”

 

“When?”

 

“When I was on that planet, the one where I was imprisoned because I was ‘for the fruiting’... you sent me with some jelly beans at the last minute?” Lip caught firmly between her teeth, Sam looked hopefully at Janet, wondering if she’d remember any more details.

 

“Honestly?  Hard to know…” As she started speaking, Janet stood up and went to the filing cabinet in the far corner of her office where, secured under high-tech fingerprint locking technology, were the original hard copies of some of the patient files she considered to be ‘useful’, including the original SG1 and the SGC’s more frequent alien visitors.  Whilst everything was digitised and archived electronically, meaning every last incident was theoretically discoverable via a database query, Janet Fraiser was still something of an ‘old school’ doctor, who generally felt most confident in her diagnoses and theories when she could feel her patient’s pulse with her fingers, listen to their lungs with her stethoscope and see her own handwritten notes summarising their history. “...I remember it, mainly because it was one of the last missions you did before Jolinar…” she stopped talking, primarily because she was concentrating on unlocking the filing cabinet, but also because even now, she couldn’t mention the name of the Tok’ra symbiote who had taken Sam as a temporary host without needing to swallow a couple of times to remoisten her instantly dry mouth.  “The post mission medicals weren’t as comprehensive then…” 

 

Opening the second drawer up from the bottom, Janet extracted a thick file which, having pushed the drawer shut with her foot, she brought back to her desk.

 

“That’s my file?” asked Sam, not sure how to interpret the two inch thick folder that had various bits of paper and film sticking out from it, although judging by how easily and confidently Janet handled it, there was nothing unusual about it.

 

“Part of it,” agreed Janet absently, focussed on turning the sections over until she came to the bit she wanted.

 

“Oh…” Intellectually, Sam knew that after more than twenty years of very active SGC related postings, not to mention her more ‘conventional’ Air Force career before that, she had generated quite a lot of paperwork about herself.  Furthermore, since being assigned to more administratively onerous command roles following her promotion to Colonel, she’d become rather more familiar with what an officer’s full military service and medical records looked like, but even that hadn’t entirely prepared her for what she saw. “...is there anyone else in that filing cabinet?” she joked, making Janet look up.

 

“What? Yes, of course… oh.”  Smiling sheepishly, Janet looked at her wife with a new understanding, “yes, you only take up a drawer.  If it’s any consolation, Daniel’s is almost as big - he shares a drawer with Jonas.”

 

“And Teal’c and the Colonel?”  It was telling that, after all these years, there would still only be one ‘Colonel’ that fitted that description for Samantha Carter.

 

“Jack and Teal’c are in the drawer below you.”  Janet was not prepared to analyse her filing system - it was a five drawer filing cabinet, and she used the bottom three drawers for SG1: that her wife’s files were neatly sandwiched between her original SG1 teammates and Jonas was purely a coincidence.

 

“Just like old times…” mused the General, a smile ghosting across her face as she remembered moments from adventures that happened, quite literally, a galaxy or more away, at a time in her life that now felt almost in a different lifetime.  “Anything?”

 

“Not really,” said Janet, the file confirming what she’d already been prepared to guess, “apart from you losing a bit of weight, which I’d not thought strange given you’d been imprisoned for a bit, the only other thing that was ever so slightly unusual was you were a bit dehydrated, which again, I’d not thought strange since you’d been imprisoned…”

 

“...but both would also be consistent with me being left to play with alien technology unsupervised for who knows how long,” concluded Sam, long past the point of attempting to deny her workaholic tunnel-vision nature when it came to understanding the unknown and alien.

 

“What did Kate think?” asked Janet, closing the file and returning it to the filing cabinet, tucking it neatly between ‘Sam Carter Pre SGC’ and ‘Sam Carter, Major’.

 

“That I could have been exploring the Tardis for months for all we know.  I got the sense that wouldn’t be out of character for the Doctor.”

 

“And your memory?”  Janet had never met the Doctor, but she was starting to think it was best if she maintained no opinion on him until after she had met him, as right now, she felt like everyone was describing a similar but ultimately different man.

 

“Could have been wiped - assuming the Doctor was using the same technology he gave UNIT for their Black Archive…”

 

“Which worked on Generals O’Neill, Hammond and Landry but not you,” recalled Janet, remembering a rather strange telephone call from London when Sam was in the middle of her first visit, “and the only logical explanation we could come up with was the naquadah.”

 

“Which I didn’t have when I went, wherever that planet was.”

 

“PX2-5TG,” replied Janet promptly, only to see her wife stare wide-eyed at her, “don’t look at me like that, it was on my post-mission medical notes.”

 

“Sorry…” Sam smiled sheepishly, before continuing, “Kate did seem to imply I’d have known what I was agreeing to, when and if my memory was wiped.”

 

“And if it is the same technology, it’s clearly considered safe by UNIT,” added Janet reluctantly, knowing she would prefer to complete her own analysis rather than rely on someone else’s, “so I’m not sure what else I can suggest, especially not this long after the mission.  And, even then…” she thought for a moment, debating whether she needed to reference another file before deciding there was no benefit, “it’s not like I could medically confirm Jack’s claim about how many time loops we’d gone through, even when I had him telling me we were mid loop.”  It still frustrated her now, years later, that there was a period of time when she was apparently repeating the same few hours again and again, with only Teal’c and Jack O’Neill as permanent witnesses, although over the years her frustration had somewhat lessened, to be replaced by an almost academic curiosity in what she’d done during those repeats and whether she’d ever taken a chance to, as Sam had put it once, ‘goof about’.

 

“Which is CMO speak for ‘General, stop worrying about it?’” guessed Sam, understanding what Janet was trying to remind her of, namely that they’d accepted weirder suggestions with less evidence and that maybe they just needed to wait and see what happened next.

 

“Yes General.”  Smiling, Janet studied her best friend, wife and Commanding Officer, “but, with respect General, I’m wondering what my wife’s worrying about asking me.”

  
“Ah, about that…” Sam fiddled nervously with her watch, not sure how well Janet would respond to her next question, “...how would you feel about us having some house guests this weekend?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for continuing to read this story - I hope it continues to be enjoyable for you.
> 
> Again, filling in some canon background for fans who are only familiar with one or other of the shows:
> 
> \- For Dr Who Fans who don't really know Stargate, the filing cabinet is referencing the original SG1 team members of Colonel Jack O'Neill, (Captain) Sam Carter, Teal'c and Dr Daniel Jackson. For a period of time during seasons 5 and 6 of the show, the 4th member of the team was an alien called Jonas Quinn. Suffice to say, Jack always grumbled loudly when in the Infirmary, Teal'c was hardly ever in need of the Infirmary (due to his symbiote (baby Goa'uld, aka baddie alien) protecting him for most of the show before a substitute was found/adapted for use instead). Also, the 'time loops' bit is a reference to a s4 episode called 'Window of Opportunity' [think Groundhog Day, but with a few extra alien things].


	14. What was the Question?

_ “Where’s Osgood?” asked Kate, all too able to work out what had occurred, being very familiar with Strax’s eccentric reactions courtesy of Parker’s regular reports. _

 

_ “Third door on the left, Madame Vastra and Ms Flint are next door.” _

 

_ “Thanks.”  _

Hands firmly in her pockets, Kate followed Janet’s instructions and set off across the infirmary, heading for the third door on the left, deep in thought.  She was virtually oblivious to her surroundings as she moved, paying attention just enough to ensure she didn’t embarrass herself by colliding with something or someone.  So oblivious in fact that she had failed to notice the lone UNIT soldier who had followed her into the infirmary when  the rest of her and Sam’s joint escort had remained outside in the corridor.  

 

Approaching the door, she paused, looking around to double check that this was the  _ third _ door on the left.

 

“Dr Stewart?” The UNIT soldier spoke quietly, his voice just carrying loudly enough to attract her attention, had she been paying attention.

 

Not hearing his call, and now satisfied that she was outside the right door, Kate took a moment to resettle her suit jacket on her shoulders and make sure the cuffs of her pale blue shirt were sitting smoothly at her wrists, the silver greyhound cufflinks twisted so that the greyhounds were ‘the right way up’.  She was just about to take the final step forward that would put her in a position to knock on the door when she was stopped with another, equally quiet but this time impossible to ignore call.

 

“Mum?”  Surprised, Kate turned around and saw Max.

 

“Max?”

 

“You were ignoring me when I called you ‘Dr Stewart’,” was his straightforward explanation, wondering what sort of reaction he’d get, and whether it would be his mother who reacted or his very much more senior officer’s Boss.

 

“Sorry…” Kate grinned sheepishly, something only his mother would do, “I was miles away.”

 

“I know.  Say hi to Os for me?” He took a couple of small steps forwards, bringing him much closer to his mother, making it almost impossible for anyone else to overhear their conversation, had anyone been within earshot.  “And perhaps you could give her a hug too? For me?”

 

“I…” As he expected, her face started to close up when he mentioned her hugging Osgood - neither his mother or her girlfriend were particularly demonstrative in public away from the ‘office’, being naturally private individuals to begin with.  In the ‘office’, they were virtually impossible to spot as a couple, even in the strangest or most stressful of circumstances.

 

“You won’t be disturbed, I’ll be just outside the door.”

 

“But won’t it…”

 

“Look odd? Nope.  It’s as per the protocol.”

 

“Is it?” Kate looked at her son suspiciously.

 

“It is as long as you don’t order me not to… Ma’am,” said Max carefully, taking a step back when he sensed that their moment of isolation from the rest of the infirmary was coming to an end as a patient was being brought towards a nearby cubicle by some nursing staff.

 

“Yes, of course.”  Kate took a moment to compose herself as she looked over his shoulder and took in the activity.  “Thank you Captain.  Carry on.”  And, with a smile and a nod, she turned around and, with a newfound confidence in her stride, stepped up to the third door on the left and knocked, only to immediately slip through the door and shut it firmly behind her.

 

Stepping out of the way of the advancing patient, Max positioned himself just in front of the door handle and settled into the familiar ‘at ease’ stance of a soldier on guard.

  
  


“Os?”  Hearing the diminutive version of her name, Osgood looked up, not surprised to see Kate Stewart, but surprised to hear Kate calling her as her lover and not her boss.  “Max is standing guard…” explained the blonde, betraying her uncertainty by shoving her hands deep into her trouser pockets once again.

 

“Why are you over there then?”

 

“I…” Kate studied her lover, friend and all round UNIT right hand, noticing the slightly swollen lower lip and overhead lights’ extra bright reflection in the glasses lenses, both telling her that Osgood had been worrying whilst she was waiting, “...wasn’t sure if I was welcome…”

 

“For god’s sake, get over here and kiss me.”  As soon as had she made the uncharacteristically terse request, Osgood was blushing, having surprised herself with how cross she sounded.  “Please?” Confused but keen to oblige, Kate moved to stand in front of Osgood and, her hands still in her trouser pockets, she leant forwards and placed a careful, tender kiss on her girlfriend’s lips.  Pulling back, she was baffled when, expecting to see Osgood looking, if not calmer, at least no more off balance than she bad been before the kiss, she instead was now facing an exasperated Osgood.

 

“For god’s sake Lethbridge…” Kate’s eyebrows shot up - she still had no idea what was going on, but recognised the use of the first half of her surname, and that tone of voice.  She’d barely finished extracting her hands from her pockets when Osgood, her hands catching hold of Kate’s hips, pulled her forwards and, in what was almost a growl, declared, “...put some flipping tongue in it!”

 

For a split second, Kate didn’t know how to respond.  It wasn’t that Osgood’s behaviour was completely unrecognisable, just rather unexpected, as the last couple of times she’d been on the receiving end of one of these demands, she had been certain it was the pain killers talking. (Kate could distinctly remember, even though it had happened almost 9 years earlier, being advised to ‘try again, it’s my knee that’s damaged, not my mouth!’ in much the same tone whilst they waited in a not too dissimilar hospital room, in Geneva, for Osgood’s recovery prognosis following a snowboarding ‘incident’).  However, as she felt her lover’s lips touch on hers, any further analytical considerations were put very firmly on hold as instincts took over and, to quote Osgood, she did indeed ‘put some flipping tongue in it’.

 

“Better?” she asked wryly when, some long moments later, they were able to resume their verbal conversation, as Kate stood between the seated Osgood’s legs, her hands resting on Osgood’s hips which, thanks to the height of the hospital bed, were about level with her own.

 

“Much.  Thank you.”  Now that she was calmer, Osgood was starting to feel a bit embarrassed at how she’d accosted her girlfriend.  “Sorry.”

 

“For what?”  Hearing Osgood start to apologise for what, in Kate’s view, was a thoroughly wonderful if extremely unexpected kiss, Kate was beginning to get worried.  “What’s brought this on?”

 

“It’s not supposed to be today.  It’s supposed to be October 8th 2004.”

 

“October 8th 2004 was also a Friday,” worked out Kate quickly, knowing that October 9th 2004 had been a Saturday, a very memorable Saturday.  “I remember what happened on the 9th…” she muttered, thinking carefully, trying to remember anything significant that might have happened on the 8th that could explain why Osgood was now somewhat aggrieved that today had superseded it.  “What was the significance of the 8th?”

 

“That was the last time the answer wasn’t you,” said Osgood firmly, looking down at her scarf and recentering it, trying to hide what was no doubt the beginnings of a blush.

 

“Os?”  Kate was all too familiar with her girlfriend’s nervous habits and, despite still being somewhat confused, was at least starting to make some sense of the situation.  “What was the answer? On October 8th 2004?”

 

“Tanya Storent.”

 

“Your ex girlfriend?”  Kate had never met her, but did remember watching Osgood going through various highs and lows during the six month relationship that had started not long after Osgood had started her job at the NPL.  So what had happened today that meant the answer changed...

 

“Yes.  She’s supposed to be the answer.  Not…”  

 

“River Song,” ground out Kate, her jaw suddenly tightening as her traitorous brain obligingly provided what felt like a slow motion replay of ‘that’ kiss.

 

“Easy Tiger…” It was very rare for Kate to be actually angry - many at UNIT thought they’d seen Kate Stewart angry, but more often than not what they were seeing was frustration or exasperation.  Quite simply, there wasn’t much in the world or universe that could make Kate Lethbridge-Stewart angry, but, as a fifteen-year-old Gordy had once put it to Osgood, ‘you’ll want snacks, it’s epic, way better than War of the Worlds!’  “...Kate…” tried Osgood again, knowing that she really must get Kate to relax, “...look at me?  Please?” Osgood reached up and ran the side of her index finger under her girlfriend’s chin, trying to coax her to look back up.  “I’m fine…better than fine now actually…” continued Osgood, realising she was going to have to step her ‘Kate defusal’ tactics up a gear.   Without drawing too much attention to her movements, Osgood managed to lean forwards just enough to enable her to place a series of kisses on her girlfriend’s collarbone which, courtesy of the blue shirt she was wearing, was easily accessible for Osgood.  Not only were the kisses unexpected, which helped to distract Kate from her anger, but they also had the additional advantage of being in a spot that Kate usually found rather more distracting than most.

 

“Os….”

 

“I’m ok…” muttered Osgood, in between a kiss or two, pleased her campaign seemed to be working, but knowing from past experience the danger of thinking she’d secured victory too early.

 

“I….I’m cross with her….” explained Kate, her jaw and neck nevertheless relaxing slightly under Osgood’s tender assault.

 

“I know….” Osgood decided she had enough of her girlfriend’s attention that she could stop her ‘extreme’ distraction tactics.  Looking Kate in the eye, she was relieved to see that a degree of calm was reappearing in those hazel depths, as the angry burn of Kate’s fury was defused.  “...but let Vastra be the one to get really mad with River…”

 

“Vastra?  What’s she got to do with it?”

 

“River had already been a little too cheeky with Jenny, before they left, and Jenny wanted you to know that Vastra wasn’t pleased River wasn’t better behaved.”

 

“When did you find all this out?”  Kate’s anger was being replaced with curiosity - clearly Osgood was making friends with the other UNIT visitors.

 

“As we went up for tea.  Jenny, Janet and I were comparing notes.”

 

“Notes?”

 

“On who was going to be having words with River first, you, Vastra or Dr Fraiser.  Actually, it was only you or Vastra.”

 

“Let me guess, Janet’s plan involved big needles?” Kate had, over the years, had enough dealings with the SGC to learn of Janet Fraiser’s reputation as, to quote one Jack O’Neill, the ‘Napoleonic Powermonger’ who never shied away from threatening to find reason to use quite the largest needles he swear she had especially manufactured.

 

“Yes.  I think she was almost disappointed that River had to leave so quickly, and so avoided a medical…”  Now that Kate was here, and their shared residual discomfort from River’s antics had been addressed, Osgood’s earlier nervousness about the forthcoming medical began to resurface.

 

“You’re going to be fine…” assured Kate quickly, all thoughts of anything other than reassuring her girlfriend gone from her mind, “Os?  I promise.”

 

“But…”  Osgood’s breathing rate began to pick up as her brain treated her to a cascade of scenarios that could happen once Janet began her medical, each more dramatic and fanciful than the last.

 

“Breathe…” Holding Osgood’s gaze, Kate deliberately tried to make her own breathing as even and regular as she could, “...I promise….” she repeated, relieved to see Osgood’s chest start to rise and fall as she gradually managed to regain some control and start to breathe a little less shallowly, “...that you are going to be fine with Janet…” Cautiously, Kate watched to see how Osgood coped with not having Kate’s own breathing pattern to follow whilst she spoke, only to pick up on the slight twitching of Osgood’s expression that signalled to Kate her help with pacing was still needed, “...I’m here…” she resumed her pattern of short bursts of a couple of words, interspersed with two or three steady, deep breaths, “...and will stay...right here...if you want…” In spite of her difficulty in keeping the asthma attack at bay, Osgood nodded insistently, tightening her grip on Kate’s hands, which she’d been holding loosely since the start of the wheezing, “...ok, you want…” teased Kate, smiling in spite of her concerns at how long it was taking for the wheezing to pass.

 

“I…”

 

“Shh…” encouraged Kate, trying not to show her concern as Osgood’s attempt to talk was quickly aborted when it increased the severity of her wheezing, “...just breathe…” Kate paid extra attention to her own breathing for a moment, trying to do everything she could to help her lover, “...I’m not going anywhere…”  

 

* * *

  
  


_ “...With respect General, I’m wondering what my wife’s worrying about asking me.” _

 

_ “Ah, about that…” Sam fiddled nervously with her watch, not sure how well Janet would respond to her next question, “...how would you feel about us having some house guests this weekend?” _

 

“Who did you have in mind?” asked Janet carefully, not finding Sam’s question totally unexpected but not yet sure of her answer.

 

“Kate…” began Sam, deciding to start with someone Janet hopefully wouldn’t consider to be too difficult to host.

 

“...which means Osgood too,” said Janet, starting to keep count with the fingers on her left hand.

 

“It does?” Sam was surprised at Janet’s response.  Not that Sam hadn’t planned to invite Osgood, because she had, but because there was something about the way in which her wife said ‘which means Osgood too’ that had Sam thinking Janet was not just thinking about international diplomacy.

 

“They’re together,” declared Janet, smiling brightly, “cute couple.  Who else?”

 

“We mustn’t assume…” began Sam, knowing that she wasn’t going to get anywhere in convincing Janet otherwise, not that she disagreed with her assessment - for one thing, it appeared that River Song had been absolutely right even if her methods of evidence gathering had been exceptionally audacious.

 

“Sweetie, Kate Stewart growls better than I do.  Who else do you want to invite?”  As much as she might have enjoyed teasing Sam further, Janet knew that she had to get back to her latest group of patients at some point soon, and no doubt somebody, somewhere on the Base would be starting to wonder what had happened to their Commanding Officer.

 

“Madame Vastra and Jenny Flint - it feels wrong to leave them in the Base VIP quarters.”

 

“Is that going to be ok? With UNIT?” asked Janet, agreeing with Sam’s assessment - certainly Jenny, who clearly had no military experience and was evidently not as experienced with time travel as her wife appeared to be, looked like she would be more at ease if she could spend the next couple of days in a more ‘homely’ environment than the underground rabbit warren than was the SGC.  As for Madame Vastra… Janet didn’t want to be the person trying to suggest that the wives should be separated, even if she wasn’t entirely certain what sort of hospitality was involved.

 

“Kate seemed to imply as much,” said Sam confidently, before self consciously straightening her watch and adding, very much as ‘General Carter’, “and Kate can do the paperwork.”

 

“So that’s four…” Janet deliberately ignored the questions that she was now thinking she needed answers to, like what sort of food should she be offering for dinner and breakfast, and what might ‘paperwork’ be needed for that Sam didn’t want to do?  “...anyone else?”

 

“Not sure.  I’m going to find some Marines to take Strax to the ranges…” Sam’s smile broadened into a full blown un-General-like grin when she saw Janet’s eyes widen, “...Kate said it’s what she’d do, if they were visiting her.  He likes blowing stuff up.  So do the Marines.  And he’s been very well behaved, apparently.”

 

“He’s threatened to kill you…” reminded Janet, admittedly recognising that this was hardly the first time Sam had been greeted with such a declaration.

 

“Twice.  And only threatened, not attempted.”

 

“That’s well behaved?”

 

“For a Sontaran, apparently almost unheard of.”  Sam shrugged, “I thought I could find a Gunny or two that could take him for a day or two, and no doubt Kate will be able to send a couple of babysitters too.”

 

“And do the paperwork?” guessed Janet, starting to spot a pattern here.  The SGC standard approach when coping with visiting aliens was to generally try to keep them ‘contained’ on Base, however it seemed the UNIT approach was a little different.

 

“They are  _ her _ aliens…”

 

“What about the others?”

 

“You mean Parker and Max?” checked Sam, not thinking Janet would be meaning Lady Penelope and all of the UNIT security teams, but wanting to be sure.

 

“I draw the line at a horse."

 

“I don’t know?” admitted Sam honestly, still, if she was honest with herself, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Parker, who was clearly a 21st century soldier from what she’d seen of him in the Gateroom, had arrived from the 19th century.

 

“I think we can cope.  Assuming Kate does the paperwork,” teased Janet, deciding that she really did have to return to her patients, unless the ‘General’ needed her for something else.  “Speaking of…”

 

“Yes, of course.”  Taking the hint, Sam stood up and moved to open Janet’s office door, “thank you for your time Doctor.”

 

“Of course General.”  Janet picked up her discarded stethoscope and pen, shoving both in the pocket of her white coat, preparing to follow her CO back out into her surprisingly calm infirmary, only to be held up by Sam, who opened the door but didn’t go through it.   “General?”

 

“We didn’t have plans for the weekend did we?”

 

“Nothing that can’t be rescheduled…” which, thought Janet, making a mental note, meant she should probably ring her mother, as somehow, Janet had a feeling that this latest adventure was probably still going to be happening next weekend, “...unless you’d like to tell my mother to her face she’s got competition in the kitchen?”  As excellent as her mother’s baking was, Janet was prepared to admit that Jenny’s scones had perhaps just got the edge.  Actually, given the kitchen equipment available to them in the 21st century compared to what Jenny had in her kitchen in the 1890s, Janet didn’t want to think about what Jenny might do in a contemporary kitchen.

 

“I’m sure I’ve got a meeting…” joked Sam, really not liking the idea of her mother-in-law discovering there was a baker who could challenge her skills.

 

“Permission to accuse the General of being a Wimp?”

 

“Granted.”  Before Sam could say anything else however, the sirens sounded to indicate that the gate was activating, confirming that she did actually have to go after all.  “Let me know how it goes Doctor.”  

 

“Yes General.” With a final nod of thanks, Sam turned on her heel and set off at a brisk walk towards the gate room, wondering who or what was arriving next, leaving Janet to head towards their visitors... visitors, the Doctor realised when she was half way across the Infirmary, that hadn’t yet explained why they were at the SGC…  Maybe, thought Janet, altering her course slightly, it was time to start getting some answers.

 

“Captain?”

 

“Doctor Fraiser, Ma’am.”  Max came to attention, although Janet was all too aware that he’d take only a split second to shift into a more ‘active’ stance should a threat emerge.

  
“Could we establish if my patient is ready for me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who were starting to wonder why there hadn't been an update for a couple of weeks, could I direct your attention towards another story (or three) that I posted in a 'Festive Three Shot' here at AO3 (they can be found via my Author page on this site). It's a Dr Who only series, which establishes more of the UNIT 'headcanon' that I'm following (since the show gave us fans so much to work with (not). It's not a mandatory read, but if some of the Kate/Osgood 'backstory' mentions have got you scratching your head, you'll find some answers over in that series. Alternatively, feel free to accept it exists and is the reason I took a while to get back to this story!
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	15. This isn't Glasgow...

“Mr Parker?”

 

“Yes Strax?”  Putting aside the book he was reading, one of Mr Smith’s latest publications for the travelling public, Parker looked at his alien friend.

 

“Have the Moonites captured us?”

 

“No Strax, the Moonites haven’t captured us.”  The secret to conversing with Strax, Parker had learnt, was to let him ask questions.  If you just tried to tell Strax what was going on, he not only got incredibly confused, but also stopped concentrating.

 

“But we are captured.”  Rather than quickly reacting to this statement, Parker looked around the comfortable room (for a hospital in top secret, highly classified underground military base) and tried to consider their circumstances from Strax’s perspective.

 

“They let us make tea…”

 

“Only fools permit their prisoners to be refreshed.”

 

“...and you have had two jelly sherbets.”

 

“Can I have another one?” asked Strax, looking the Sontaran equivalent of hopefully at Parker.  This, admittedly, was somewhat indistinguishable from how he looked normally, as the only real change in his expression was the frequency with which he blinked.

 

“How many feet do you have?”

 

“Two…” Although Strax knew the answer to this question, he did double check by looking down the bed to the towel covered heaps that were his warming feet and lifting each one suspiciously.

 

“How many jelly sherbets have you had?”

 

“One for each foot, in celebration of their glorious defeat of the Splashy-men in the puddle of battle!” Like all good Sontarans, Strax became positively animated at the recollection of a glorious battle, although this meant that he accidentally kicked the warm towels off the bed and onto the floor.  “Mr Parker?”

 

“Yes Strax?”

 

“I have freed myself from the ineffective restraints these captors use.  It is time to make our escape.  Do you have a laser cannon?”

 

“No.  Do you?” asked Parker reasonably as he hopped off the bed he was sat on and started to pick up the towels that Strax had dislodged.

 

“No.  And my feet are cold.”  Strax was incredibly stoical about many things, except cold, wet feet.  “Do you have any foot covers?”

 

“Here you go…”  Under what felt like intense scrutiny, but was actually just Strax’s thinking face, Parker swiftly wrapped the still warm towels around each of his friend’s feet.

 

“Mr Parker?”

 

“Yes Strax?”  As annoying as it was to hear himself continually called ‘Mr Parker’, Parker knew he would never get Strax to change what he called him, and so instead he just reminded himself that there were far worse (or at least, inexplicable) forms of address that Strax could have chosen.  

 

“I do not think we are captured by the Moonites.”

 

“I think you’re right about that.”

 

“Mr Parker?”

 

“Yes Strax?”  Admittedly though, he didn’t think Strax had overused his name this much since the early days of their acquaintance.

 

“Where are we?”

 

“Visiting friends.”

 

“Of the Doctor?”

 

“And Madame Vastra and...” Parker paused, not sure what Strax knew about Kate Stewart, although based on their exchange of words when River Song was still with them, he clearly did know her.

 

“The Brigadier.”  Strax lapsed into silence, once more thinking hard.  As much as he wanted to ask more questions, Parker knew he would be unlikely to get meaningful or reliable answers from Strax about what he knew about UNIT or why he insisted on describing Kate Stewart as ‘the Brigadier’, a title few in UNIT knew she held and even fewer dared to use.  Therefore, having poured himself another glass of water, Parker settled back down on the other bed and returned to his ‘penny novel’ which he’d bought from one of the W H Smith sellers at Victoria Station whilst Madame Vastra had been advising Scotland Yard of her absence, absently realising it was probably worth an absolute fortune now.

 

“Mr Parker?”

 

“Yes Strax?”  Parker once again marked his page and put his book aside, ready for whatever idea had now entered his friend’s head.

 

“Are we in Glasgow?”

 

* * *

  
  


“These ain’t so bad,” observed Jenny, using her hands to smooth down the rumpled front of the blue ‘scrub’ top that she was wearing, “even if it could do with a press.”  Which, realised Jenny as she carefully folded up the clothes she’d travelled in, placing them tidily on a convenient chair in the corner of the room, was true for most of what she’d seen so far as, to a Victorian eye, even USAF ironing wasn’t quite up to scratch.

 

“Gggmm.”

 

“Pardon?”  Not understanding her wife’s non-descript noise, Jenny turned around, only to sprint across to Vastra, “oh you daft lizard!” 

 

Moving quickly but confidently, Jenny pulled the scrub shirt down over Vastra’s shoulders, not bothering to attempt to thread her clearly very sore left arm through the sleeve, but instead using the shirt to trap the arm against Vastra’s torso.  Two more sharp tugs and the skirts of Vastra’s travelling dress tumbled to the floor, leaving a clearly sluggish Vastra stood with her dress pooled around her feet, wearing the blue trousers and top.  Trusting that Vastra wasn’t going to attempt moving, Jenny headed to the nearest hospital bed and tackled the bed linens, relieved to see that nothing much had changed in the last century or so.  

 

Moments later, she was back by Vastra’s side, trying to coax her rapidly cooling wife towards the bed.  “Come on you, let's get you warm…” she encouraged, pressing as close as she could to Vastra’s right side, trying to warm her daft lizard. “...why didn’t you say anythin’?” she continued, not really expecting an answer, as she helped Vastra sit down on the side of the bed.  “No you don’t…” It took a fair bit of Jenny’s not inconsiderable strength to stop Vastra automatically leaning to her left, as the urge to curl up to maximise her heat conservation overrode any thoughts the Silurian might have previously been having about wanting to protect her clearly very painful left shoulder “...t’other way’s best for you…”  The fact that Vastra hadn’t hissed about her ‘mindless ape chatter’ was starting to concern Jenny, although the situation could only start to improve now that Vastra was no longer stood half-naked, trying to move her shoulder.

 

As soon as she was lying down on her side, Vastra’s survival instincts kicked in and she tucked into an impressively neat ball, her injured arm still trapped inside the scrub shirt, cradled against her chest in the very centre.  As she laid the sheets and blanket over her wife, Jenny picked up the faint smell of the powerful detergents used in the laundry to keep the Infirmary bed linens up to standard in terms of cleanliness.  Although it wasn’t unpleasant, Jenny was struck by how different it was compared to the scents and smells she was used to, and if she could notice…  Horrified at the thought of Vastra, whose sense of smell recovered very rapidly as she warmed up, jerking or jolting in reaction to this strange, clearly artificial scent, Jenny left her wife for a second and dashed to the chair where, moments earlier, she had tidily placed her clothes.  

 

Shaking out her travelling dress, Jenny managed to remove the thin cotton lining fabric with few well placed tugs at the stitching.  Not caring about the state of the dress, she returned to Vastra’s side with the soft cotton.  Fortunately, Vastra was so cold that once she’d curled up into her ball, she hadn’t repositioned the pillows.  Jenny was therefore able to wrap the abandoned pillows in the soft cotton and, with a little bit of gentle encouragement and gentle shoving, managed to get Vastra settled with her head reasonably comfortably supported by the pillows.  They might not look smart, covered haphazardly in the dull grey cotton, but they would at least help by making the pillows and bed generally smell a little bit familiar for Vastra.  

 

“Jenny?” Vastra’s voice was faint, and lacked its usual light, lyric quality, with her attempt to say her wife’s name sounding more like a two-tone groan.

 

“Shh… just think warm thoughts.”  Jenny slipped her hand into Vastra’s reaching right hand.

 

“Daft lizard…” mumbled Vastra, letting her head sink deeper into the pillows which smelt comfortingly of her wife.

 

“And I wouldn’t swap you…” agreed Jenny, placing a kiss carefully on the peak of her wife’s crown.  “let go…” she carefully extracted her hand from her wife’s grasp, knowing that the warmth she generated would see Vastra start to pull her hand and arm tighter and tighter to her chest, no doubt forgetting about her wounded left arm in the process.  “I’m going to get Janet…” explained Jenny, pressing another kiss to the only bit of Vastra now visible above the blanket, which was the top of her crown.

 

“Gmmmpth.”

 

“Yes, I will be back quickly,” agreed Jenny, now recognising and correctly interpreting Vastra’s indistinct noises, her ear having become attuned to them in these sorts of situations.  Pausing for a moment as she debated pulling the blanket off the second bed, Jenny dismissed the idea, telling herself she could do that in a minute, if she couldn’t get Janet’s help immediately.  Therefore, after a final glance at the mound of blanket-covered Silurian, Jenny crossed the room and opened the door hoping she’d see someone in the main Infirmary she could get to help.

 

As she opened the door however, she started to feel some of her earlier confidence disappear as she was once again reminded very forcibly that this wasn’t her time, and wasn’t an environment that was familiar to her.  Whilst it had been relatively easy to forget about their journey through, admittedly not much space but quite a lot of, time when it was just her and Vastra in a quiet private room, looking out into the main infirmary, with all the screens and beeps and people moving about in strange clothes was quite another matter.  Just when she was about to give herself a stern talking to about how important it was for Vastra that she got help, and that these were, if not friends of the Doctor exactly, were friends of friends of the Doctor, she heard a familiar voice to her left.

 

“Could we establish if my patient is ready for me?”  

 

“‘ere! Janet!”

 

Jenny's shout saved Max from having to work out what his reply to Janet’s rather loaded question might be, although it took a moment to recognise her.  He hadn’t exactly expected to see the Victorian in the blue scrubs more usually associated with the medical staff in an infirmary, rather than the patients, although the familiar, decidedly un-American vowels did help him put two and two together extra quickly.

 

“What’s the matter Jenny?”  If Janet’s staff were surprised at hearing their boss’ first name hollered across the infirmary, they managed not to show it, especially when they saw and heard the Chief Medical Officer take it in her stride.

 

“It’s Vastra, she’s cold…” explained Jenny rushing up to their new friend, her face showing the worry that she’d kept hidden from Vastra - although Vastra wasn’t dangerously cold yet (it wasn’t like she’d been stuck in a snow drift for hours), Jenny was a long way from the fires and blankets of Number 13 Paternoster Row and didn’t know how should could help her wife without getting help herself.

 

“Okay…” Not quite understanding the significance of the statement, Janet looked back at Max, wondering if he could help.

 

“Silurian, think reptile, lizard…” Max started to remember what he’d read during the flight over to the SGC, having previously not had to think about Silurians since his UNIT Induction course a couple of years earlier.  “...they’re…”

 

“Cold blooded.” said Janet in unison with him,  reaching the same conclusion he did, but not understand what was so different all of a sudden.

 

“Air Conditioning,” said Max, pointing at the ceiling vents, before looking at Jenny thoughtfully, “did your wife change also Ma’am?” he asked politely, gesturing vaguely towards the scrubs.

 

“Yes, and her arm’s hurt.”  Jenny had no idea what air conditioning was, or what it had to do with the ceiling, but she didn’t really care, she was just relieved that he and Janet were understanding what her problem was.

 

“Right, let’s get your wife warmed up then.”  Smiling reassuringly at Jenny, Janet took her gently by the arm and started guiding her back to Vastra.  “Abby?” she called out, catching sight of one of her most experienced nurses a few beds down the infirmary.

 

“Yes Doctor Fraiser?”  Hearing her name called in that particular tone of voice by her boss, not only did she move swiftly towards the Chief Medical Officer, but she also attracted the attention of two more junior nurses, who obediently stopped what they were doing and fell into step alongside her - reinforcements ready and waiting for their orders.

 

“Suspected hypothermia in Iso Two.”

 

“Yes Ma’am.”  Knowing better than to waste time asking questions, Abby turned and started towards where they kept a permanent supply of warmed blankets which would be a good starting point - beyond that was anyone’s guess - knowing the patient was of alien physiology, it was hard to know if the rest of their standard hypothermia treatment options would be considered by Dr Fraiser or not, but erring on the side of caution, she sent one of her fellow nurses to put some saline into the warmer.  Moments later, her arms full of the first set of warmed towels and blankets, she headed back across the infirmary towards the isolation rooms currently being used by the UNIT sponsored guests.

 

“Uh, excuse me Ma’am?”  Although he was certainly no less junior than Abby, and might even be of a more senior rank than the nurse, Max was very conscious he was not on ‘home turf’ in the USAF infirmary and decided that, as his father had pointed out to him at an early age, if in doubt, ‘use your manners son’.

 

“Yes?”  Although loathe to be delayed by this guard, Abby was experienced enough to recognise that if he was standing guard outside the room currently occupied by the Head of UK Unit, he was probably not prone to time-wasting.

 

“Silurians, they're cold blooded, think like lizards.  You got any fleeces?”  Abby thought for a moment, trying to unravel his train of thought.

 

“Arctic BDUs?” she suggested, trying to remember what sorts of uniforms they’d have in stores on base.

 

“Perfect.  Warmer than the scrubs,” explained Max, flashing an easy grin at the senior nurse, pleased she’d followed his logic.

 

“Thanks.  James?” she called, attracting the attention of the other nurse who was carrying more towels and blankets.

 

“Ma’am?”

 

“Leave those there, I’ll get them.  Can you get on to Stores and get a couple of Arctic BDUs issued to Dr Fraiser please?”

 

“Yes Ma’am.  Uh, what size Ma’am?”

 

“Ah…”  Uncertain what the answer might be, Abby nodded in the direction of their new UNIT friend, deciding he could work out the answer whilst she continued on with the blankets, before they began to cool.

 

“Hang on…” Having no idea how to answer the question, Max stepped back to the door of the room Kate and Osgood were in and knocked sharply, before breaking all recognised protocols and, opening the door a fraction of an inch, called quietly but distinctly, “Mum?”

 

“Did he just…?” Inside, Kate looked in confusion at Osgood, who had just about got her breathing back under control but decided to just nod.

 

“What is it Max?” called out Kate, heading to the door and opening it properly.

 

“Madame Vastra… what size kit should we get?”

 

“Start at the beginning.”  Seeing there was no one running, and unable to hear any sounds of weapons, she leant against the doorframe and put her hands in her pockets, “and no, I’m not mad,” she said quickly, smiling when she saw he’d just realised what he’d called her.

 

“Madame Vastra’s gone shocky, being Silurian.  Dr Fraiser’s warming her up now, but she’ll be best in fleece not scrubs.  They’re going to get some Arctic gear from stores…”

 

“...but you have no idea what size.”  Kate caught up with Max’s line of thinking quickly. “I’d guess…” Kate thought for a moment, before turning to look at the USAF nurse who was clearly waiting for the answer but trying to look like he wasn’t listening to their conversation.  “Get one the same size as General Carter and another one size up.  Jenny can mix and match.” 

 

“Thank you Ma’am.” Recognising a smile by way of dismissal, the nurse quickly excused himself to a nearby phone to place the stores request.

 

“Ma’am…” Now that they were once more relatively isolated from everyone else in the Infirmary, Max thought he better try and dig himself out of his hole.

 

“Don’t worry Max,” dismissed Kate, grinning at him, “I’d probably have told you to go away if you’d called me Ma’am,” admitted Kate honestly, knowing that she had, for a few precious minutes at least, been thinking as ‘Kate’ first and ‘Kate Stewart, Head of UNIT’ second.  “Anyway…” she leaned forwards so that she could talk more conspiratorially with her son, “...your mother is quite pleased you’re not going round guessing women's measurements…”  Kate didn’t need to look up at him to know he was probably blushing.

 

“Don’t let her tease you Max…” called out Osgood, now sufficiently confident in her breathing to come to see what the commotion was about, “...everything ok?”

 

“Vastra got cold, too cold apparently.”  Kate turned so she was stood with her back against the door frame, allowing Osgood to see past her and smile in greeting at Max.

 

“Hmm, air con,” pondered Osgood, looking up thoughtfully, before glancing back at the bed where, as had been the case for everyone else who needed a medical from Janet, there was a selection of scrub tops and trousers available for them to put on, “and those aren’t very warm,” she concluded, instinctively wrapping her scarf more firmly around her neck and shoulders which, unlike her duffle coat, she hadn’t left in the briefing room when they set off for the infirmary.

 

“No, which is why Captain Stewart here,” said Kate, enjoying seeing how Max appeared to stand even taller when Osgood’s theory had matched his own, “had the good sense to get some warm kit ordered from stores for Vastra…” Osgood looked hopefully at him, deciding those scrub tops really didn’t look warm enough for her, “...you can borrow my jacket,” said Kate quickly, knowing what Osgood was thinking.

 

“And when you get cold?” asked Osgood, knowing that Kate was unlikely to notice herself as temperature, like hunger, was something she generally failed to keep track of when she was occupied with something interesting.

 

“You’ll tell Max to give me his sweater,” pointed out Kate reasonably, smiling when she saw her girlfriend and son exchange a knowing look, as both recognised the truth in Kate’s statement.  

 

“Was Dr Fraiser just here for me?” asked Osgood, looking at Max, neatly bringing them back to business.

 

“Yes.  She’d just asked if you were ready when Ms Flint shouted.”

 

“Ah.”  Nodding thoughtfully, Osgood turned around and headed back into the room, evidently about to start working out which scrub top was the most likely to fit and whether she really needed to put on the trousers, leaving Kate and Max stood in the doorway.  

 

“I think that’s my cue…” said Kate, standing up properly, preparing to head back into the room, if only so Osgood had some privacy from the rest of the infirmary whilst she changed, although Kate was reasonably confident her presence would be still welcomed by her lover.

 

“Ma’am.”  She may be his mother, and a civilian, and her hands might have never once left her trouser pockets during their exchange, but she was still his commanding ‘officer’ and his military training was such that not only did he automatically snap to attention at the implied dismissal, but he was already starting to write the lecture he was going to give himself whilst he stood guard duty for his earlier lapse in protocol.

 

“Captain Stewart?” Kate paused, one hand on the door, about to close it.

 

“Yes Ma’am?”

 

“Do you remember who wrote the protocols for this situation?”

 

“I understand you did Ma’am.”  

 

“Correct.  Excellent job Captain, carry on.”  And, with a casual, very non-military salute that went perfectly with the fleeting wink and grin she threw him, Kate Stewart shut the door, leaving him to resume his guard, and his thoughts. 

 

 

As he turned around so that he was once more facing the main infirmary, he suddenly felt the pieces fit together: the casual salute that was nothing like the ‘proper’ salute he knew she could do because her father had taught her and he’d occasionally helped her practice it (she might be an ‘honorary’ Brigadier but that didn’t mean she was a sloppy one); the relaxed amusement at his slip up in what was an admittedly unusual and rather non-military situation; the teasing jokes and hands always in her pockets…

 

“Oh man…” he muttered quietly, only not quite quietly enough, as Lieutenant Spirelli had just arrived in the infirmary and was making his way over to Max, clearly looking for him.

 

“Everything ok Sir?”  Max considered how to respond to this, before quashing his first instinct of ‘everything’s fine’ and deciding to take the General’s aide into something of a confidence.

 

“I’ve just realised my boss is starting to have fun…”

 

“That Sir,” said Jake after a moment’s pause before deciding to take an equivalent gamble, “makes two of us, Sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading!


	16. When 'Different' is Different to 'Strange'

“And one more, deep breath in…”  Janet moved her stethoscope across to the other side of Jenny’s ribs, “...and out.” Smiling, Janet extracted the stethoscope from under the edge of Jenny’s top, and, in an automatic movement, removed the eartubes from her ears and draped it around her neck before pulling out her pen from the top pocket of her white coat.  “All done Jenny.  Thank you.”

 

“That it?”  Not that Jenny was complaining - it was more poking and prodding than she’d had in her life, but it hadn’t been bad.  Janet had been very patient and gentle with her, explaining what she was doing as she stepped through a standard ‘light touch’ physical exam.  Although the bright light that Janet had insisted on shining in her eyes had stung a bit, and Jenny hadn’t particularly liked having to say ‘argh’ and stick her tongue out, it hadn’t been as bad as what her imagination had come up with.  She was especially glad that Janet had managed to take all the blood samples she needed before Vastra had warmed up enough to start looking sleepily in her direction.

 

“Yes, thank you Jenny.”  Janet picked up the chart she’d left on the bed next to her and made a couple of quick scribbled notes.  “As expected, you are in excellent health.  Once we get the test results back, we can have another chat about what, if anything, you want to do.”

 

“That’s the antibody stuff?” Knowing Vastra would ask all manner of questions when she was warm, Jenny had tried to ask even more questions than she might have ordinarily, keen to make sure she understood as much as she could.  Much to her relief, Janet had been patient, kind and able to explain in terms the Victorian could follow.

 

“The antibody stuff,” confirmed Janet, putting aside the chart and pulling off her gloves.  “And the allergy tests.”

 

“Oh, yes.”  Jenny looked thoughtful for a moment.  “Will we need to stay here? In this room?”  She didn’t want to be rude, but, well, it wasn’t exactly comfortable.

 

“What?  No!”  Janet reached out to place a reassuring hand on Jenny’s shoulder, attracting her attention, “I’d like you to stay here, with your wife, until we’ve got Madame Vastra comfortable and that includes her left shoulder, which I think is hurting her quite a bit?”

 

“She was holding Strax, to stop him running at the…” it took her a moment to remember what the shimmering blue thing had been called, “...wormhole as soon as the circle started making noises.  ‘e’s quite strong.”

 

“So I saw,” agreed Janet, recalling Parker’s ‘wrestling’ with the Sontaran, leaving her generally impressed with Silurian strength.

 

“Did ‘e behave ‘imself? Strax I mean?” Jenny was concerned - she hadn’t meant to let Strax out of her sight, but both Osgood (who she was liking as much as Janet) and Parker had assured her that Strax would be fine, and that she should stay with Vastra who had, even after the relatively short walk through the Base to the Infirmary, been starting to look, well, the wrong sort of green as far as Jenny was concerned.

 

“He was fine Jenny, and Mr Parker was very good with him too. Strax,” Janet had stopped calling him Commander Strax - it was hard to think of him as a Commander when he’d been so easily distracted by the promise of his sweets, “is recovering nicely, with Mr Parker keeping him company.”

 

“So we ain’t staying here?  In this room?”  Pleased that she knew how her fellow ‘Victorians’ were doing, Jenny returned to her original question.

 

“No.”  Anything more that Janet might have been going to say was forgotten by a loud, low hiss coming from behind her that sounded far from friendly, causing Janet to instinctively freeze, her hand still on Jenny’s shoulder.

 

“‘ere, stop it!” said Jenny forcefully, pushing herself off the bed and landing lightly on her feet, gently dislodging Janet’s hand in the process, “there’s no need to be grumpy…” continued Jenny, stepping past Janet and approaching the bed where a clearly warmer Vastra was starting to pay closer attention to her surroundings.  Fascinated, Janet kept a respectful and wary distance from the alien woman, experienced enough with aliens in general to recognise when it was best to keep out of the way.  “...we’re with the Doctor’s friends, remember?  And some Americans…” added Jenny as an afterthought, still not completely clear why they were meeting people from London not in London.  She placed a hand on Vastra’s crown, running her thumb reassuringly down the ridge of the middle peak, which was clearly a familiar and reassuring gesture between the two women, guessed Janet, observing how the hiss changed from a low, aggressive noise to an equally low but somehow more sensual, calmer noise that was, if she had to explain it, more like a purr.  “Now, you warm enough to let me take off these ‘ere blankets and things?” asked Jenny, leaning over so that it was easier for Vastra to see her and vice versa, “you’ve made a mess of your arm, so no moving fast.  But there’s some nice warm stuff they call fleece for you to wear.”

 

It took a couple of minutes and a few more Silurian curses than Vastra’s sisters would consider polite, but soon Vastra was sat upright on the bed, her legs stretched out in front of her along the mattress and her left arm still held against her chest by the scrub shirt, which was effectively acting as a sling.

 

“Thank you my dear,” said Vastra gently, looking fondly at Jenny once she was relatively comfortable again, with this thing Jenny said was called ‘fleece’ draped like a cape across her shoulders, helping to keep her back warm.

 

“You ready to play nice?” asked Jenny pointedly, knowing that it was only going to get worse for her wife as her sore shoulder was only going to make her temper even shorter that it usually was when it came to dealing with the sorts of questions Jenny imagined Janet was going to ask.

 

“I always play nice…” began Vastra, only to see the warning glare in her wife’s eyes, “...but I will try to be extra nice.”

 

“Good.  Janet?” Jenny was conscious Janet had been keeping out of the way, giving Jenny and Vastra some space, but was reasonably confident that the doctor had also been paying very close attention.

 

“Yes Jenny?”  Janet moved around the bed that Jenny had been using and approached the bed Vastra was sitting rather awkwardly on.

 

“Can you ‘elp ‘er?” Now that Vastra was warm and alert, Jenny could see how much pain her wife was in, and how much effort it was taking on Vastra’s part to try to conceal it.  That in itself was a worry to Jenny, nevermind the fact that they were in a strange place and time and with no way home until Tuesday.

 

“I am…” Vastra was about to dismiss Jenny’s concerns when she realised that what she was seeing on her wife’s face was something she was very used to seeing on the face of apes, rarely saw on her wife’s, and virtually never when she was the focus of Jenny’s attention: Jenny looked fearful, something which Vastra did not care to see, prompting a change of mind  “...in need of assistance, and would be grateful if you could help me Dr Fraiser.”

 

“Of course Madame Vastra,” Janet stepped around the foot of the bed and approached Vastra from her left, taking care to stop a couple of feet from the bed - near enough to be close but far enough away that she was clearly not going to be suddenly touching or jarring Vastra’s injury. “Would you be more comfortable with your back supported?  The bed can be angled up…”  Janet wasn’t sure she’d really explained the adjustable hospital bed terribly well (but then she couldn’t ever remember having to explain how it worked, now she thought about it), but Jenny was enthusiastic.

 

“It’s like one of ‘em chaise long thingamys you keep wanting,” said Jenny helpfully, starting to look less grey and more animated now she knew Vastra wasn’t going to hiss and spit (literally and metaphorically), “only comfortable.”

 

“Thank you Dr Fraiser, that would be most helpful,” agreed Vastra, inclining her head in the direction of the Doctor, failing to conceal her amusement at Jenny’s description.

 

“Oi, stop laughin’ at me, or I’ll give Strax some more jelly sherbets!”

 

“Forgive me my love…” Contrition was not an emotion that came particularly naturally to Silurians in general, and so Vastra had never been particularly convincing when she attempted it.

 

“Daft lizard…” As much as she wanted to be cross with her, Jenny had never been able to keep a straight face when Vastra started pulling what Jenny privately termed her ‘sorry face’, complete with excessive blinking and a weird sort of head bobbing motion that always made Jenny think of Lady Penelope trying to steal carrots from Parker’s pocket.  “Sit back, the bed’s just behind you,” she encouraged, seeing that Janet had raised the head of the bed, “better?”

 

“Mmm…” Vastra gingerly relaxed back into the now raised bed, only to more fully relax when she felt the mattress come into contact with her back and once more began to smell the hint of familiarity from her rather unconventional pillowcase, “better.  Thank you.”

 

“Good.”  Pleased to have her latest patient finally comfortable  _ and  _ conscious, Janet carefully straightened the blankets that had pooled around Madame Vastra’s legs, not keen to risk a repeat of their earlier cooling adventure.  “Despite what some people might try to tell you, I do actually like my patients to be as comfortable as possible...” she looked Vastra straight in the eye and smiled, “...so, other than putting you out in the snow, what else shouldn’t I do?”

 

It took Vastra a moment to work out that this small, smaller than even her wife,  _ ape  _ was teasing her, something which didn’t often happen to the Silurian, but then she wasn’t often in the 21st century and in the company of people who were as seemingly indifferent to her, well, alienness.

 

“I really cannot stand the so called amusement of ‘charades’.  It would be unwise to suggest we ‘play’ that game.”

 

Janet blinked.

 

Then smiled.

 

“That, Madame Vastra,” she said, putting her hands in the pockets of her white coat to stop her instinctively grabbing her stethoscope, “makes two of us.  How do you feel about red wine?”

 

“Red wine?  As in fermented liquids of the grape?”  Vastra knew precisely what  _ Victorian  _ Red Wine was, but didn’t care to assume it was still the same without first checking.

 

“Yes.”

 

“In moderation it can be quite pleasant, but I do not see the relevance, Doctor Fraiser.”

 

“Call me Janet, and the relevance, Madame Vastra, is that if anyone decides charades is a good idea, I will be leaving the room immediately and seeking a bottle of red wine, which I would be happy to share with you whilst everyone else plays charades.”

 

“I see… Janet.”  Vastra paused, considering this suggestion.  “I think that is an admirable plan, and one that could perhaps be followed without the inconvenience of needing to first find someone to suggest charades.  And I would prefer you call me Vastra.”

 

“Thank you Vastra.”  Janet smiled at both her visitors, making a mental note that she needed to check her wine rack.  “Now, before I take a look at your shoulder, what should I know about Silurians?”

 

“She means summary,” interjected Jenny, not wishing Vastra to launch into a long lecture.

 

“Yes dear.”  Clearly sarcasm triggered what sounded like a Scottish accent in Vastra, but then, realised Janet almost immediately, there was no reason why it shouldn’t - after all, it was not like Vastra was speaking her ‘native’ tongue.  “I was born several million years ago…” Vastra eyed Janet critically, “...Jenny dear, I think our new friend might be best sat down?  Her legs appear to be failing.”

 

“I think…” said Jenny, rearranging the blankets around Vastra’s legs so there was a decent space for Janet to sit on, the room not having a chair, “...her legs are workin’ fine, and you’re being cheeky like… Sit down Janet.  She’s ‘armless…” Jenny looked pointedly at Vastra who was indeed looking at Janet with what Jenny recognised as her wife’s mischievous smile, “most of the time.”

 

“I… thank you, and my apologies Vastra.  Please, do continue,” requested Janet, not completely sitting on the bed (Air Force Regulations and her own principles) but nevertheless moving a little nearer to the bed and leaning her hip against it… just in case her legs ‘failed’ again.

 

“As I said, I was born several million years ago, when dinosaurs walked this planet and you were incapable but amusing apes...” Out of the corner of her eye, Janet saw Jenny roll her eyes and shake her head at how Vastra was describing their forefathers, “...although you have grown up to be something a little more interesting.”  Vastra ignored the ‘harrumph’ that her wife made at this remark and continued.  “By Silurian standards I was only moderately able and, as such, was allocated to the defence forces, which required that I train as a Warrior.  This was decided when I was the equivalent of your…” Vastra tried to remember what the word was that she needed, only for Jenny to provide it.

 

“Teenager, that’s what Miss Clara said it were.”

 

“Thank you my dear.”  Vastra placed her hand gently over Jenny’s and squeezed it with affection, “it was decided when I was in my late ‘teenage’ years.”  Seeing that Janet was about to ask a question, Vastra quickly added, “my precise age is irrelevant, but I am about as far through my life as one who is middle aged in yours.”  Vastra carefully fussed with the blanket that was lying in her lap, clearly not keen to continue, something Jenny recognised and, turning her hand that Vastra was already holding over so that their fingers could interweave, Jenny picked up her wife’s story for her.

 

“They ‘ibernated, all of them, when Earth was in danger.  She was awoken by the London Underground…extension it was.”  Janet couldn’t stop herself from picturing the iconic subway map in her mind, although she did just about manage to stop herself asking what line and station, sensing that now was not the moment to be concerned about the transportation network as clearly this was rather traumatic for the Silurian.  “Anyways, that’s ‘ow she met the Doctor… and ‘e introduced us,” finished Jenny proudly, looking affectionately at Vastra who was doing the Silurian equivalent of blushing, “even if she is a daft lizard at times…”

 

“What my wife is failing to mention is I woke up confused - and saw the deaths of my sisters…”

 

“You were in a cryogenic stasis?” asked Janet, trying to quickly work out what sort of technology that required, although it presumably would work a little differently on a reptilian type species than on humans.

 

“Essentially yes, millions of us across this planet.  But most of the records were never properly stored, and the few facilities that were personally known to me were damaged at some point in the intervening years, just as my own facility was.  I was fortunate enough to awaken before the technology failed, but my sisters were not similarly blessed.  So I became angry…”  Vastra had never been proud of what she had done on waking, but she refused to be apologetic either - at the time, she could see only the wanton destruction of her people’s property and resultant fatal consequences which, as a warrior, she had been taught to interpret as acts of aggression that had to be resisted.  But she did acknowledge she had been angry and had allowed her actions to be fuelled by that anger.

 

“And reacted as an angry warrior would I imagine,” said Janet simply, understanding what Vastra was trying to prepare her for.  “How many?”

 

“How many did I kill? Five.  It would have been more, but I had no weapons other than my own.”  Vastra’s odd phrasing perplexed Janet, but she wasn’t sure how to ask for clarification.

 

“She means ‘er tongue…” Before Jenny could explain further, Vastra provided a demonstration by deftly removing Janet’s stethoscope from where it lay around her neck.

 

“I see.”  Janet watched Vastra study the stethoscope, turning it this way and that as she examined it.  “It’s called a stethoscope and it is used for auscultation, that is, listening to the respiratory and circulatory systems.”

 

“Then you shall use it to listen to mine,” said Vastra, her curiosity satisfied, “once I have told you where they are.”

 

“And warmed it up…” added Jenny, remembering the cool metal disc that had, as Janet had warned, felt rather cool on her skin.

 

“And,” agreed Janet smiling, “warmed it up…”

 

“That would be preferable,” agreed Vastra, watching as Janet reclaimed her stethoscope and wrapped her hand around the metal disc, clearly intending to warm it with her body heat.  “Would it be possible for Jenny to listen also?”

 

“Of course, and you, if you’d care to?”

 

“Ah, thank you, but no.”  Vastra smiled, realising this gave her an opportunity to touch on one of the other key differences between herself and these apes.  “I have no need to listen because I can already ‘hear’ Jenny’s heart beating, and yours, should I wish…but also, I have no ears to put those tubes in.”

 

“That,” agreed Janet, contemplating the Silurian’s head thoughtfully, “would make it difficult.  Vastra, have you ever damaged your right shoulder in any way?”

 

“My right shoulder is perfectly fine, thank you.”  This sudden change of topic, coupled with Janet’s apparent ‘unshockableness’ was keeping Vastra uncharacteristically off-balance.

 

“Then, with your permission, I would like to do an ultrasound scan of your right shoulder and then your left one.”

 

“Why both?” asked Jenny quickly, stopping her wife from saying something that was probably better left unsaid.

 

“Because I might not know anything about Silurian anatomy yet, but I do know how to spot the differences between two scans of the same joint type.  If your right shoulder is a perfectly fine example of a Silurian shoulder joint, then when I compare the scan of it with the scan of your left shoulder...” Janet was interrupted before she could finish.

 

“Then you can extrapolate what, if any, structural damage has been inflicted on my shoulder by the exertions of Mr Strax.  An ingenious solution Janet.”  Vastra had to admit, if only to herself, that she had perhaps underestimated these friends of the Doctor.  “You have done this before.”

 

“You are my first Silurian...” clarified Janet, heading to the door intending to request someone find her the necessary equipment to complete the ultrasound, “...but you are correct, I have treated non-human patients before.  I’ll be back in a moment!”  And, with a final warm, genuine smile, the metal discs of  her stethoscope still held in her hand as she continued to try to warm it, she disappeared out into the main infirmary to gather up the equipment she wanted in order to complete Vastra’s exam and start her probable treatment.

 

“It is nice…” mused Vastra thoughtfully, once she and Jenny were alone again.

 

“What is?” asked Jenny, taking advantage of their privacy to run her fingers along Vastra’s crown ridges - a tender and intimate action she wasn’t used to doing with an audience.

 

“I am still different to you apes,”  Jenny only slightly bristled at the use of the term, recognising that her wife was speaking in broad generalities, “and that continues to makes me unique among the people of this planet, even in this time...and yet…”  Vastra looked directly at Jenny with an almost childlike excitement sparkling in her eyes, “...it is nice to not be seen to be  _ strange _ .”

 

“What did I tell you? They’re friends of the Doctor.”

 

“I do believe, Jenny dearest, that soon we will be able to claim them to be our friends too…”

  
  



	17. "Not my first human..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some 'throwaway' references during this chapter to aspects of the Kate & Osgood backstory that is my 'head canon' that are incidental to the overall and main plot and can just be accepted. However, if you'd like to understand more about the references, you'll find many of the answers and details in my other Kate/Osgood stories (archived conveniently on this website, via my author name).
> 
> Equally, to those of you who have already read those stories, you might find the odd missing detail explained in this part....

“I can hear you thinking.”

 

“Says the biologist,” grumbled Osgood, rearranging her scarf for the third time in as many minutes, clearly struggling with the room temperature, now she was just wearing the blue ‘scrub’ shirt.

 

“Here…” Kate slipped out of her suit jacket and, stepping up to stand directly in front of Osgood, draped it around her shoulders, “...that should help a bit.”

 

“Thank you.”  Osgood instinctively pulled the edges closer together across her front, snuggling into the wool-silk blend navy jacket.

 

“Stand up?” asked Kate, suddenly realising something else she could do to help her clearly chilly girlfriend.

 

“Now what?” Osgood trusted Kate implicitly, so was happy to oblige to the request, but that didn’t stop her from being curious.

 

“We swap,” said Kate simply, as she pushed herself up onto the bed, sitting with her knees parted.  “Come here?”  She gestured to the space between her knees, encouraging Osgood to stand directly in front of her.

 

“No silly business…” warned Osgood, nevertheless stepping into Kate’s offered embrace, grateful too that Max was on door duty as otherwise, she would never have agreed to Kate’s suggestion.  Then again, Kate would have probably never suggested it.

 

“No chance with your scarf…” muttered Kate, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist and encouraging her to lean backwards so that she was using Kate’s upper body as a backrest, a warm, heat radiating backrest.

 

“And no dribbling!”  That, decided Kate, didn’t warrant a response, so she just rested her chin on Osgood’s shoulder.

 

“You don’t dribble…” said Osgood quietly, a few minutes later.

 

“We both know I do,” corrected Kate, equally quietly, although her voice had an added muffled edge due to the scarf that was right in front of her mouth.

 

“I meant when you’re awake.”

 

“I know.”  With limited available options for conveying her genuine unconcern about the accusation Osgood clearly felt she had thrown at her, Kate settled for an affectionate gentle squeeze with her arms, converting her hold on Osgood into a hug.

 

“The scarf…” Osgood put her hands over Kate’s, like she was trying to hold onto the hug.  “...what they said…”

 

“River and Vastra?” checked Kate, knowing better than to try and change the subject.

 

“Yes…” Habit meant Osgood paused to focus on taking a couple of steady, deliberate breaths before she continued, not wanting to accidentally create the opportunity for her recent attack to return; experience meant Kate knew to wait quietly for her lover to finish her thought.  “...what did they mean?”

 

“The scarf was my father’s.”  Kate repositioned her head slightly, so she didn’t feel like she had the scarf caught between her lips when she was speaking. “It…” she swallowed, taking a moment to compose herself and her thoughts, “it was with some of his things, from the house.”  She cleared her throat, feeling Osgood’s fingers tracing random patterns that weren’t random on the backs of her hands.  “There were boxes of things, from the house, that he’d never unpacked, just… kept.”

 

“When he went to the home?” asked Osgood carefully, knowing that Kate still found it difficult to talk about Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart as her father as opposed to one of her most influential and significant predecessor’s at UNIT.

 

“When he left my mother…” The ‘and me’ was left unsaid but nevertheless heard by Osgood who, frustrated by the cuffs of Kate’s shirt, which kept getting in the way, started to hunt for the cufflinks, inadvertently distracting Kate from her memory.  “Os?”

 

“I’m trying to take out your cufflinks,” explained Osgood, succeeding in finding the cufflink in Kate’s left cuff and deftly extracting the silver greyhound.

 

“Ah.”  Bemused as to why, but disinclined to argue, Kate relaxed her hold on her girlfriend, enabling Osgood to find the second greyhound that was holding her right cuff together.  “Where are they?”  It didn’t bother Kate whether her cuffs were fastened or not, but if they were going to remain unfastened, she wanted to know where her cufflinks were - Os had commissioned a jeweller to make the silver greyhounds when she’d discovered what the call sign was for the UNIT Head, shortly after arriving at UNIT.  They weren’t the only cufflinks she’d given Kate over the course of their relationship, but they were Kate’s favourites.

 

“My pocket,” reassured Osgood, slipping the cufflinks into her right trouser pocket where they would be safe, underneath her ever-present emergency handkerchief.

 

“Good.”  Amused, Kate consciously kept her arms and wrists loose as Osgood, clearly still not entirely satisfied with the results of her fidgeting, started to carefully and neatly roll Kate’s right sleeve up.  Unbothered by this (Osgood had the knack of doing it such that, when she unrolled her sleeves and refastened her cuffs, Kate didn’t look too crumpled), Kate continued with her explanation, content to let her girlfriend continue to fidget and fiddle if that was what helped her cope with the wait.  “The scarf was wrapped in a box, with a note that said ‘for Katie.’  There was no signature.”

 

“Your Dad?” asked Osgood, running her fingertips down Kate’s now bare right forearm before starting to tackle her left sleeve.

 

“Not his handwriting, and he didn’t call me Katie.”  Kate chewed on her lower lip for a moment, trying to put her thoughts in an order that would make the most sense, “I’d just assumed he’d seen it and thought I’d like the colours, but then forgotten to give it to me… but I tried it on and saw how long it was…” she laughed, “it would have been ridiculous on me then.”

 

“Was this…” Osgood paused, feeling silly for thinking she could know when Kate had found the scarf.

 

“Was this what?”

 

“When, not what.”  Osgood had corrected Kate’s question before she’d really realised what she was saying, committing her to asking the question properly, irrespective of how silly she felt.  “When did you find the scarf?”

 

“When I was going through those boxes that were delivered to the house…” Kate frowned, trying to pinpoint the date, “I think...yes.”  Kate smiled, realising what Osgood was remembering.  “You brought me tea…”

 

“And you were… weird,” Osgood couldn’t suppress the wince at using such an imprecise word to describe Kate’s demeanour then, but unable to think of a better one, she had to cope and carried on, “so I hugged you.  Which made you worse, that is…”  Even now, years later, Osgood still remembered how, for a split second, she almost considered calling for an ambulance, or UNIT.

 

“I know.  At first I didn’t want you to hug me because I thought I would be covered in dust and wool and god knows what,” explained Kate, playing with the end of the scarf that was just in reach of her fingers that were now resting gently on Osgood’s stomach.  “But you’d got so close without wheezing, I…”

 

“Grabbed me like a woman possessed,” teased Osgood, tracing the faint scratches that zig zagged across Kate’s forearms, the nearly healed signs of her latest victory in her autumn pruning battle in the garden.  “Then pushed me away, then grabbed me…”  Osgood huffed in mock frustration and irritation, “it took you at least three goes to decide to kiss me.”

 

“I couldn’t believe you weren’t wheezing.”

 

“Where was the scarf?”

 

“In a box next to my desk, but I’d been wearing it, looking at it, folding and unfolding it for a long time before you came up.  You should have been wheezing…”  It was one of Osgood’s more immediate and responsive allergens, and had meant that she’d had to abandon wearing anything that was pure wool or fluffy.  In fact, the only wool they had in their combined wardrobes was the wool that was blended with something to create a decidedly non-fluffy fabric (like the silk in Kate’s suits and the polyester-acrylic-wool blend of Osgood’s duffle coat).  “But you weren’t.”

 

“I did wonder, when you gave it to me…”

 

“Your face suggested a ticking bomb would be more welcome,” teased Kate, recalling her girlfriend’s fleeting look of horror when she’d unwrapped the very woolly and fluffy scarf.

 

“I love this scarf!” protested Osgood, snuggling down into it, leaning back into Kate, feeling warm and relaxed.

 

“I know you do…” agreed Kate, rubbing her girlfriend’s shoulder with her chin through the folds of scarf.  “I always wondered where my father had got it, even thought about asking your Dad or Winifred at times but…”

 

“When did you think it was the Doctor’s?”

 

“When I saw the photographs in the Black Archive files, a few months after I’d given it to you.  But it was a... “ Kate thought how best to explain what she felt, “...a wish, not a belief.  I couldn’t see how my father could have it.”

 

“But now you do?”

 

“Not entirely, but I think Vastra does.”

 

“I think…” began Osgood, turning around in Kate’s hold so she could see her, “that Vastra knows rather more than she lets on.”

 

“I’m sure she’ll just point out we don’t ask the right questions.”

 

“What are the right questions?”  Osgood was confused by Kate’s answer - one of her early principles she’d established at the Tower was that ‘science leads’ meant asking questions and listening to the answers whilst not shooting.  Worrying about asking the ‘right’ question wasn’t  high on anyone’s to-do list - it merely created an unfortunate silence in which someone might shoot.

 

“According to Vastra, the ones that are answered with the truth, which is singular.”

 

“The one word test?”  Osgood recalled reading about it in one of Parker’s more confusing reports about snow that wasn’t snow and snowmen that were, sort of.

 

“Yes.”  Kate grinned in spite of herself, prompting Osgood to shake her head in apparent despair at her antics.

 

“Why do I put up with you?”

 

“Love.”  That had been an easy question to answer, and one that Kate often found herself marvelling at - if she had the ability, she would have canonised Osgood several times over in the course of their relationship for putting up with the chaos that Kate’s life seemed to attract.

 

Kate waited for the next question, her hands occupying themselves by finding a path underneath the hem of her suit jacket and the scrub shirt, seeking out the familiar plane of her girlfriend’s back to start tracing lazy swirls and strokes on, grateful for her rolled up shirt sleeves which made the whole process easier.

 

“No more questions...” declared Osgood, her hands finding their own path to her girlfriend’s back, a path made all the easier by Kate not wearing her jacket.

 

“No?”

 

“No.”  Osgood kissed the tip of Kate’s nose.  “Vastra’s right, truth is singular.  And I still love this scarf…” Osgood stretched her neck and kissed Kate’s forehead, “...but I still love you more…” before, with scarf trapped between them, and without a wheeze or a cough, Osgood leaned forwards and kissed her lover who, unsurprisingly, happily concentrated on carefully, deliberately, lovingly, kissing her back.

* * *

  
  


“That’s it?”  Jenny’s question brought an involuntary smile to Janet’s face which, fortunately for the CMO, was unseen by either Vastra or Jenny as she was looking down at Vastra’s chart.  “I thought it’d be, well, bigger.”

 

“Size, as you well know my dear,” mumbled Vastra, slightly indistinctly due to the position she was in, “is not in any way correlated with potency.”  

 

“Yes but…”  As Janet opened the door and prepared to slip out into the main infirmary, Jenny’s fascination was clearly maintained in spite of Vastra’s dismissal. “It’s moving!”

 

“Of course it is…” Janet could hear the frustration building in Vastra’s voice and was suddenly relieved that she hadn’t heard whatever came next in the conversation, as by now she was back in the main infirmary, the door to the room being used by Vastra and Jenny firmly shut.

 

Putting the two charts she was carrying in the holder next to the door, Janet risked a quick glance around the parts of the infirmary she could see, satisfied that everything seemed to be in order, and no one was rushing to attract her attention.  In fact, the only thing that looked out of place was the soldiers on guard duty - two by the main entrance (one UNIT, one SGC), one respectfully behind her (SGC, CMO escort) and one, Captain Stewart she assumed, stood outside her next destination, Osgood’s room, indicating that Kate Stewart was still inside as well.

 

Ignoring the strong sense of deja vu she was  experiencing, she looked up at the amiable looking soldier and, in a straight rerun of a couple of hours earlier, asked, “Could we establish if my patient is ready for me?”

 

“You’re expected Doctor,” grinned Max, knocking on the door behind him as he spoke before automatically stepping aside, correctly anticipating the clearly called ‘come in’.  Looking over her shoulder at the infirmary, as if daring anyone to distract her away from  _ finally  _ seeing Osgood, relieved to see that all was calm and decidedly uninterested in attracting her attention, Janet set about meeting her final patient.

 

“Hello Osgood…” she paused just inside the door whilst she closed it, automatically noting Kate leaning against the wall, her shirt sleeves neatly rolled up to just below the elbows, hands shoved in her pants pockets, clearly very ‘present’ and yet giving Osgood the space and room to take the lead.  “I’m sorry it’s taken a while to get to you.”

 

“Don’t worry,” said Osgood automatically, checking her scarf was nice and symmetrical, with both ends resting tidily in her lap, “I didn’t mind,” she added, looking up at Janet who was now stood by the side of the bed that, in the absence of a more comfortable looking chair, Osgood had finally agreed to sit on, her back propped up on the bed, legs stretched out in front of her, crossed neatly at the ankles.

 

“Are you still cold?” asked Janet, noticing that she was wearing what looked like Kate Stewart’s suit jacket over the blue scrub shirt and the scarf that had caused the ballgown wearing woman (was she really called River?) to act even more strangely than she already had been.

 

“No,” Osgood shrugged and repositioned her glasses, “just comfortable,” which, realised Janet, was exactly the right way to describe Osgood now, compared to the Osgood of earlier.  “How is everyone else?”  Osgood knew that Kate was keen to find out but, since this was Osgood’s medical, wasn’t going to interrupt with any questions, but Osgood was keen to find out for herself.  Not to mention it delayed the inevitable for a few more minutes.

 

“You’ve certainly got a different kind of alien!” 

 

The words were out of her mouth before she’d really realised who was in earshot and how her remark could be interpreted.  It was a rare but not completely unheard of moment where she forgot herself for that split second that, in the wrong company, could have serious consequences but, on the odd occasion when it had happened thus far in her career, had only served to emphasise her ‘humanness’, a surprisingly useful quality given the nature of her role. 

 

“Osgood, I…”

 

“Don’t worry Janet,” said Osgood, smiling genuinely for the first time since the Doctor had entered the room, before looking past the doctor to Kate who was smirking at the verbal misstep, “I know exactly what you meant… and between us, is the reason the General’s no doubt very keen for us to do the paperwork?”

 

“Do you really have to use quills?” asked Janet, abandoning the idea of launching at speed into the medical and instead directly addressing one of the unanswered questions she had from earlier.

 

“Occasionally, and there’s another set of forms that are on vellum.”  Osgood thought for a moment about some of the more esoteric administrative processes that, although technically Kate’s to execute, were most successfully completed if undertaken in laboratory conditions as if they were experiments.  The more ‘classic’ 21st century office-based administration was handled through Kate’s PA, a scarily efficient civil servant whose grasp of the machinery of UNIT and Whitehall bureaucracy was as delicate and precise as that of a surgeon’s.  “My favourite’s the scroll that has a three-colour seal,” continued Osgood, her face continuing to show a genuine delight in her work, “but I don’t get to do that one very often.”

 

“A three-colour seal?”

 

“Technically three seals, one on top of the other, each in a different coloured wax.”  Osgood decided she could probably skip the rest of the explanation, at least for the moment. “It looks quite smart when it’s finished.”

 

“Which one’s that for?” asked Kate, struggling to remember it.

 

“Honorary visitation permit…” Osgood thought for a moment, trying to remember when she’d last done one, “...Roqurting Representative Tronkrinkgrin’s current companion.”

 

“Oh.” Kate mentally translated Osgood’s description, “, of course… Drinkie.”

 

“Drinkie?” Janet didn’t like to say that they were telling a good joke but she didn’t believe them, but clearly her face registered some of it.

 

“Easier to say than ‘Drinjkingroun’,” shrugged Kate, moving from her slouched spot against the wall and heading to the door, which she opened.  “Max?  Have you still got that photo on your phone?  Of Tronkie and Drinkie?”

 

There was a pause during which Osgood elected to count the ceiling tiles again (it was a suitable distraction from admiring her girlfriend’s rear profile as she leant against the open door) and Janet tried to not ask seven questions in quick succession.

 

“Os will know what to do, thanks Max…” Phone borrowed, Kate shut the door and came over to the bed, the phone held in front of her in much the same way Janet thought she might elect to carry a piece of live ordnance.

 

“It won’t explode,” teased Osgood, plucking the smartphone from Kate’s palm and starting to skim through the pictures to the one that showed the two visiting aliens most clearly.

 

“I’m impressed with your Captain’s confidence…” observed Janet, struggling to think of many SGC officers who would offer up their smartphones to Sam like that.

 

“He knows she’s tech illiterate,” came Osgood’s surprising comment, causing Janet to look from Osgood to Kate in shock, concerned as to what reaction she might get, only to be completely wrong-footed.

 

“I can text, phone and just about take photographs,” shrugged Kate, not seeing the problem.  Intellectually, she could completely understand the technology but practically?  Until there was a decent substitute for a proper game of Bridge, she wasn’t remotely interested in getting to grips with it.  And her blackberry worked very well for email, thank you.  “And only that last one because Max taught me when he was fifteen…” Kate looked thoughtfully at Janet as she blinked, slowly, “...I adopted him, when he was fourteen.  Long story.  Os?” she asked, redirecting Janet’s focus.

 

“Here you are…” Osgood passed over the phone for Janet to look at the photo she’d selected, “Drinkie’s the one on the right.”

 

“Are those orange stilettos?” asked Janet, not sure where to begin in her assessment of what she was looking at.

 

“Orange suede, one inch heel,” confirmed Kate, recalling how she had not had to try too hard to admire them when Drinkie had proudly shown them off, “worn with a fuschia pink sequinned cocktail dress.”  That, on the other hand, had been a tougher test of her diplomacy skills.

 

“Tronkie’s the one wearing the electric blue.  And you know he prefers you to describe it as an ‘Official Tunic’,” reminded Osgood, accepting the phone back from Janet.

 

“He’s not here…” reminded Kate, pocketing Max’s phone once Osgood had locked the phone and turned off the screen for her.

 

“He?”  That, Janet realised, was not the pronoun she would have instinctively gone for, based on that photograph.

 

“Yup.  Their planet is very hot and their bodies function more like plants, a sort of photosynthesis rather than atmospheric respiration,” explained Osgood, knowing Kate could explain it better, but she’d returned to her preferred spot of wall, leaving Osgood the centre of Janet’s focus.  “They wear tunics that leave their limbs bare, in much the same way cocktail dresses do.”  Osgood repositioned her glasses in what, Janet was starting to realise, was as much a form of cognitive punctuation rather than out of optical necessity, “but I have no idea why they like stilettos.”  Or rather, she had a very good idea, but she wasn’t going to admit to Janet about admiring the way the stilettos made Kate’s legs look.  Not without alcohol and a slightly longer acquaintance.

 

“You have very different aliens,” repeated Janet, this time with the confidence that she was stating a fact that wasn’t interpreted as an insult, “and paperwork.”

 

“Keeps us all in jobs,” shrugged Osgood, not that concerned, but then she’d mostly got over the day-to-day novelty of her job a few years ago, mostly...well, sometimes.  “How are our aliens?  And time travellers?” she added, realising that technically, only Strax and Vastra were alien - Parker and Jenny were just...displaced.

 

“No real issues.  Parker has gone to visit his horse and has taken Strax with him.  I think Lt Spirelli and Sgt Siler were supervising.”  Janet had a vague recollection of giving permission for those two patients to be ‘discharged’ just before she’d started Vastra’s shoulder ultrasound.

 

“So their medicals are ok?” 

 

“Fine, fascinating actually.  I’m not sure anything viral or bacterial could even start on a Sontaran - certainly Strax seemed extremely insulted when I tried to ask him about it.  And Parker is fine, clean bill of health.”  Janet rubbed her neck wearily with her left hand, wondering if she’d regret sitting down as it would probably make it all too easy to remember that her day had started at stupid o’clock in the morning.

 

“As long as they keep their feet dry and warm,” agreed Osgood, deciding not to mention their total lack of self-preservation whenever they thought they were ‘on the glorious field of battle’.  “How’s Madame Vastra?  Jenny seemed to be worried about her.”   
  
“We’ve agreed on a slight shoulder strain and a sling.”  Janet smiled as she remembered the examination - she was quite familiar with undertaking examinations on alien species she’d never previously met, but had to admit that Madame Vastra had been a whole new experience for her.  “Turns out that the Silurian warrior equivalent of field first aid included some sort of sonic scanner and basic diagnosis skills.  Madame Vastra was fascinated by the ultrasound and is currently guiding her wife and my chief nurse through a comparative anatomy lesson, so we’ll have some reference points for Silurian anatomy,” explained Janet, knowing that Abby was more than equal to the challenge.  “As I left, I think Jenny was just discovering that their venom sack is quite small.”

 

“But very potent,” volunteered Kate, knowing that Silurian venom was at the extremely lethal end of the UNIT poisons directory, unless you knew the antidote.   
  
“How is Jenny?” asked Osgood, remembering how everything had become much easier once they’d agreed to abandon titles, not least because the 21st century ‘natives’ had something of an overabundance of PhDs that served to confuse Strax, who refused to call anyone ‘Doctor’ without at least one other distinct title which had not only tested his memory but also slowed down the conversation so much they’d all started to forget what they were talking about.   
  
“Is in excellent health, but I need to talk to you both about what the UNIT protocol might be for vaccinations.”  It was one thing for Jenny to be confirmed as fit and healthy with none of the diseases that were prevalent in Victorian London and all but eliminated in the 21st century (or at least Colorado Springs), but quite another for Janet to have confidence that no visiting alien travelling through the Gate wasn’t carrying some infection that might pose a risk to Jenny that modern vaccinations eliminated for the rest of the Base.   
  
“Of course,” agreed Kate, thinking it was probably time she found Sam again and they worked out what they did next.  Tuesday was still feeling quite a long way in the future, and Kate wasn’t entirely certain whether she wanted to spend the next three days waiting in the SGC’s guest quarters.   
  
“Which just leaves you Osgood…”

 

“Yes, well...”  Osgood repositioned her glasses and looked down to check the ends of her scarf were level.

 

“Osgood?” repeated Janet, risking putting what she hoped was a reassuring hand on the clearly very anxious woman’s shin.

 

“Mmm?” Osgood’s gaze flicked nervously from Janet’s hand, to Kate, still leaning against the wall behind Janet and finally to Janet.

 

“Why don’t you start with telling me about your asthma?”

 

“But…”  This time, Janet watched Osgood’s gaze go straight to where she presumed Kate was still standing.

 

“I can kick her out if you want…” began Janet, reasonably confident that wasn’t what was rushing round in the scientist’s brain, causing her breathing to speed up and her breaths became shallower.

 

“No!”  Osgood’s face told Janet everything she’d already thought she could guess.

 

“It’s ok…” Ignoring Janet, Kate’s gaze had remained steadily and calmly fixed on her girlfriend’s troubled gaze, “...you’re ok…” she continued, setting a rhythm she knew Osgood could ‘get’, could hang onto and use to regain some element of control of her breathing.

 

“Sorry…” began Osgood, once she felt she could think, breathe and talk the odd word.

 

“Don’t be,” said Janet, dismissing Osgood’s worries with an easy smile.  “I meant what I said, why don’t you start with telling me about your asthma, and we worry about anything else if we need to?”  Janet watched Osgood as she clearly had a wordless conversation with Kate that, based on Osgood’s end of the ‘discussion’, had Janet desperate to turn around and see what Kate’s face was showing.  But she didn’t.

 

“Ok…” Clearly in possession of a bit more confidence and reassurance than she had been a moment or two earlier, Osgood once again checked her scarf and glasses, clearly wondering what to say, prompting Janet to offer one final hint of encouragement.

 

“Would it help if I told you that, although you’re my first Osgood…” this, she was relieved to see, did bring a hint of a smile to the scientist’s still very anxious looking face, “...and obviously not my first human…” Janet paused, getting confirmation her hunch was correct when Osgood went from almost relaxed to rigid, not to mention she adamant she heard a ‘stiffening’ of Kate Stewart behind her, “...but…” This time she risked a look over her shoulder at Kate, offering a small smile and nod of her own in reassurance, before turning back and giving Osgood her undivided attention once more who was still looking at her with an apprehension but also some curiosity. “You’re not my first human who might be also a little bit alien?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading :-)


	18. Doctor's Orders

“...completed in time for departure Ma’am.”

 

“Thank you Colonel.”  Nodding in approval, Sam looked around the room, absently realising that she was the only woman in the briefing.  It was something that she’d stopped noticing years ago and probably wouldn’t have picked up on if she hadn’t had the earlier meeting with the UNIT visitors which had been overwhelmingly female.  “I think we’ve covered everything,” she glanced down at her pad which showed a list of points she’d wanted to see covered in the meeting, all of which were now crossed through, “does anyone have anything they’d like to revisit?” Not that she wanted the meeting to last any longer than it already had, but there were some things you just didn’t shortcut, and the final planning and sign-off of a 304 departure to Atlantis was one such thing.

 

Sam waited, giving everyone the opportunity to review their own notes, check lists and gut instincts before they all individually looked up, caught her eye and shook their heads, often with a muttered ‘no General’ or ‘I’m good Ma’am’ or similar to make sure she wasn’t misunderstanding.  When she was confident that everyone else was confident they were ready, she pulled her papers, laptop and tablet into a messy heap.

 

“In which case, Colonel?” Waiting a beat for any final twitches, crises or panics to surface, Sam held out her hand for the thick ring binder that, despite this being a Spaceship not a fighter jet or bomber, hadn’t actually changed much since the pre-flight log books and checklists that had been in use since World War Two and earlier.

 

“Thank you General.”  Everyone around the table instinctively sat at attention whilst Sam, as the Base and 304 ‘squadron’ commander, signed in the various places that confirmed she was satisfied with the preparations so far and was therefore authorising them to continue with the final preparations that would see the crew depart on Monday morning.

 

“Next briefing is Monday?” Sam recapped her pen and pushed the folder back in the direction of the Colonel, signalling that she had finished giving her authorisations.

 

“0800 hours Ma’am, at the Hanger.”

 

“Thanks.”  She stood up, prompting everyone else in the room to follow suit. “Good work so far gentlemen, see you on Monday.”  That they should and could contact her in the interim if necessary was understood, although both Sam and the Colonel knew that he was betting his eagles on not contacting her.  With a final nod and smile, Sam awkwardly scooped up her stack of papers and technology and, pen still caught in her fingers, left the table and headed for the door which the airman on duty had opened for her.

 

“Let me take those Ma’am,” said Jake Spirelli, who had been waiting outside the meeting room for the last few minutes, hoping that it would finish on schedule.

 

“Thanks Jake…” Sam gratefully dumped the papers into the attache case he was holding open, experience meaning she still hung onto the laptop and tablet, which she proceeded to slip into the second case he held out.  “How am I doing?” she asked, nodding to a passing officer as she set an easy pace that Jake could keep in step with, each carrying an attache case.

 

“Running early, sort of Ma’am.”

 

“Sort of?”  Sam looked sideways at him, amused.

 

“That was your last meeting, and you finished seven minutes early.  But UNIT are not on your schedule Ma’am…”

 

“How are they doing?” Sam pressed the call button for the elevator and, noting that they were in an otherwise deserted corridor, took the opportunity to roll her shoulders and neck, enjoying the satisfaction of feeling some cracks and pops, “and don’t tell Jan about that!” she warned, grinning conspiratorially at her assistant.

 

“About what Ma’am?” answered Jake obediently, smiling at his boss’ antics before schooling his features and continuing with his update.  “Dr Fraiser has cleared all the visitors that needed medicals from our perspective, but mentioned something about wanting to catch up with Dr Stewart to see if there was anything else required by UNIT.”  He paused whilst they stepped into the now arrived elevator, taking the opportunity to quickly mentally review and double check that he hadn’t forgotten anything from the Chief Medical Officer’s update that she’d given him twenty minutes ago. “All are in excellent health, although Madame Vastra has a slight shoulder strain.  Dr Fraiser advises that the patient is…” he cleared his throat and concentrated extra hard on keeping a neutral expression, “...supremely confident she will be fully recovered within two days but has agreed to a sling, in principle.”

 

“What does that mean?” asked Sam, doing her best not to look too amused - even after a relatively brief acquaintance with Madame Vastra, she could picture the conversation.

 

“Dr Fraiser can show Ms Flint how to effect the immobilisation with an appropriate piece of fabric from their luggage - unlike the Arctic BDUs, the field dressing calico sling did not find favour General.”

 

“Arctic BDUs?”  Sam could understand Vastra’s response to the fabric sling from the field dressing kit, she could remember the agony of the hard fabric knot rubbing against the back of her neck all too clearly  - presumably there was some reason Janet hadn’t deemed the foam loop-style slings they often used in the Infirmary acceptable.

 

“Silurians are apparently cold-blooded Ma’am,” explained Jake, following her out of the elevator and down the corridor towards the briefing room, gate room and her office.

 

“Right.”  First UNIT mystery of the day solved then, although Sam doubted that many more would be that straightforward.  “Where are they all now?”

 

“Bombardier Parker and Commander Strax are with the horse, who has been passed by the Vet, waiting for suitable stables to be found.  Dr Stewart and her…” Jake thought for a moment about what the most succinct description might be, “...remaining associates are in the Briefing Room where Ms Flint is serving a late ‘luncheon’ apparently.”  Jake was unexpectedly interrupted by a strange noise which Sam quickly identified as being her stomach, causing her to look a little sheepish as she rubbed it, as if that would help in some way to quell her hunger, “to which I’m confident you would be most welcome Ma’am,” amended Jake quickly, thinking he wouldn’t mind a piece of that pie he’d seen being cut, especially if it was as good as the scones had been.  “And Dr Fraiser is in her office, but said she would join you once you were back from the 304 meeting General.”

 

“Thanks Jake.”  Sam slowed her pace and held out the attache case she’d been carrying, “can you put that in my office please?  I’ll  meet Janet and the others the briefing room in a minute.”  

 

“Yes Ma’am.”  In his first week on base, when she’d stopped at this seemingly random point in the corridor and handed him her papers, he’d been confused and she’d had to explain, prompting him to blush in embarrassment.  Now though, he just accepted the case and carried on walking, leaving his boss to take a brief detour down the intersecting corridor and avail herself of the locker room facilities which, whilst a lot nearer her office than was often the case on a Base, was, as Kate had correctly pointed out earlier, significantly harder to find from her office than another planet!

 

* * *

  
  


“‘Ave another piece!”

 

“Thank you my dear, but I am quite sated.”  Vastra emphasised her point by placing her napkin neatly beside her plate having first rather daintily dabbed at her mouth and caught up the final crumbs of pastry and jelly.

 

“But…” Jenny looked quickly across the table and saw Kate and Osgood seemingly engrossed in their own conversation, enabling her to lean down and mutter, “...we still don’t know what they eat!” 

 

“All the more reason,” assured Vastra, placing her right hand on her wife’s forearm in an attempt to provide some reassurance, “to save your excellent cooking, just in case.”  

 

“Oh.”  Jenny’s expression resembled a slight frown whilst she worked through her wife’s logic, trying to find any flaw or imperfection that suggested Vastra was teasing her or trying to distract her away from Vastra’s relatively small appetite.  “It won’t keep for long mind,” she said finally, deciding she couldn’t fault Vastra’s theory.

 

“It is too delicious to keep for long,” soothed Vastra, pleased that her wife hadn’t noticed her larger concern, namely where were they to spend the days before the Doctor arrived in the Tardis, not least because it hadn’t occurred to her that their friend wouldn’t be here when they arrived.

 

“Daft lizard…”  Putting the pie dish down on the briefing room table, Jenny affectionately and gently pushed her wife’s (uninjured) shoulder, letting Vastra know that she wasn’t as successful at concealing her extra concerns as she had perhaps thought.  “I don’t know what’s botherin’ you ‘bout all this, or why you’re keepin’ secrets ‘bout it…” Jenny sat down to her own piece of pie, which she set about demolishing with gusto, only now realising how hungry she was.  “But why don’t you ask your friend?” she suggested, nodding in the direction of Kate and Osgood, a movement that caught Osgood’s attention.

 

“Ask Kate what?”

 

“Not me, ‘er,” declared Jenny, pleased that she’d forced Vastra’s hand - she loved her wife, every last Silurian bit of her, but that didn’t mean she would ever voluntarily elect to spend time with a brooding Vastra, not as long as there was a slim chance she could coax her out of the mood.

 

“Mmm?” In response to Osgood’s elbowing, Kate looked up from her lunch, “excellent pie and sandwiches Jenny, thank you.”  Osgood elbowed her again, prompting Kate to look at her and, with no attempt at subtly (not something that was a particularly strong Lethbridge-Stewart skill at the best of times), ask “what was that for?” whilst rubbing her abused side.

 

“Pay attention!” hissed Osgood, jerking her head in the direction of Vastra and Jenny, knowing it was something of a forlorn hope - once Kate had noticed how hungry she was and was actually prepared to take action to rectify the situation by eating something, she had a tendency to become rather tunnel-visioned and fail to notice anything other than the plate of food in front of her.

 

“Mine’s no better…” said Jenny, smiling at Osgood, both recognising the situation and seeing the humorous side of the exchange.

 

“What?”  Osgood looked in horror at Jenny, then at Kate, then back to Jenny, reaching for the inhaler that Kate held out for her.

 

“The device is called an inhaler,” explained Kate conversationally, picking up on Vastra’s curiosity and Jenny’s alarm, “it lets Os spray a measure of the medication straight into the back of her mouth as she inhales, enabling the drugs to get pulled into her lungs immediately and start working on counteracting the muscle spasms and making it easier for her to breathe again.”  As Kate spoke, Vastra and Jenny could see her words come true as Osgood started to breathe more slowly and easily.

 

“Curious.  What is the cause of these symptoms?” asked Vastra, intrigued by the idea of forcing medication directly into the lungs, something that she had no recollection of from her Silurian medical classes.  However, before Kate or Osgood could start answering the question, Jenny decided to demonstrate that her elbow was just as sharp and as quick as Osgood’s.  “My dear?”

 

“Them’s personal.”

 

“It’s fine Jenny,” said Osgood, forcing herself to squeeze those three words out with a breath that she didn’t really have yet, smiling in spite of her wheezing when she felt Kate discretely place a reassuring hand on her thigh, out of sight of the others.  “Can you…”  she asked the remainder of her question with a jerk of her head and by placing her own hand on top of Kate’s and giving it a squeeze of thanks.

 

“Sure.”  Kate turned her hand over so it was now resting palm up on Osgood’s lap, enabling their fingers to tangle together, before she turned to face Jenny and Vastra.  “The condition is called asthma,” Kate paused whilst she ordered her thoughts and listened to Osgood’s breathing, pleased to hear that the inhaler had worked and her breathing was steadying, “and Dr Fraiser could explain this better…” she muttered, a view her girlfriend clearly didn’t share based on the forcefulness of the squeeze Osgood delivered to her hand.

 

“You are doing very well so far, please continue.”

 

“Ancient lizard, dawn of time,” whispered Jenny loudly, knowing that her wife had potentially just been extremely insulting to Kate and not wanting her to stop with her explanation, although the fact that Osgood was no longer sounding so out of breath was making her feel a bit less worried that she’d done something wrong.

 

“Good practice for the Doctor,” joked Kate, not offended by Vastra’s interjection.  “People with asthma have a very sensitive respiratory system and it can be easily…” Kate considered and dismissed numerous scientific terms that the biologist in her wanted to use but the diplomat in her knew were best compromised on, “distressed, causing wheezing and, if not corrected, more serious problems as breathing becomes dangerously difficult.” 

 

“And this medicine stops the distress?” asked Vastra, focusing on understanding the problem solution rather than the problem cause.

 

“Yes - Os’s inhaler,”  Kate accepted the inhaler when Osgood passed it to her with a nod and gesture that she should demonstrate it, which Kate did by spraying a puff of the Ventolin into the air well away from the four of them and their plates of food, “provides a drug that is easily absorbed by her lungs and works to relax the bronchi…” Kate saw the frowns as she introduced the new word, “..ah, parts of the lung tissue that absorb the oxygen, and generally help make it easier for her to breathe again.”

 

“The sponge-like tissues…” mused Vastra thoughtfully, knowing exactly what tissue Kate was referring to but having enough sense, much to Jenny’s relief, to not provide a gastronomic review of them.

 

“What makes it ‘appen?” asked Jenny, fascinated at this new information, her earlier concerns about unduly prying almost forgotten, “if you don’t mind me asking Miss?”

 

“Osgood…” corrected Osgood, smiling more easily now her breathing was steadying and she’d been able to talk through her symptoms with Janet, “and it’s fine.”  She squeezed Kate’s hand again, silently communicating her thanks for Kate’s help but that she’d take over the explanation now.  “Lots of things…” she took a sip of water, refreshing her mouth and removing the lingering taste of the medication, “so I wheeze a lot…” Jenny smiled at this, recognising the attempted joke, “...dust, smoke, animals…” Jenny’s eyes went wide with shock at that list - that basically described London as she’d left it a few hours ago, “this sort of air conditioning.”  Osgood didn’t yet have enough confidence in her breathing to attempt to explain the difference between air circulation and recycling systems like the types they had at both the Tower and here at the SGC and air conditioning, but judging by Jenny’s look of partial understanding and Vastra’s rearrangement of her fleece lined jacket, Janet had clearly explained some basics to them during their medical.  “Nerves don’t help, or surprises.”

 

“So…” Jenny tried to work out what from the list Osgood had just provided had caused that attack, “I surprised you?”

 

“Yes.”  Seeing Jenny start to frown again, clearly about to try and work out what she’d done wrong, Kate took over the explanation.

 

“We’re not used to our relationship being mentioned at work.”  It was clumsier and potentially harsher than she’d intended, but Kate couldn’t think of a better way of putting it without risking Jenny starting to feel even more ‘in the wrong’ than she was evidently already doing.

 

“Oh.”  Jenny considered this for a moment, comparing what she was discovering to her own experience of both working and loving Vastra.  However, before she could ask her next question, she was interrupted by the briefing room door opening and General Carter arriving.

 

“Am I last?”

 

“No.”  Kate swallowed the last piece of pastry that she’d put in her mouth just as the door had started to open, “although you’re almost too late for pie.”  Before Sam reply, her stomach had got in ahead of her, attracting Jenny’s attention.

 

“‘Ere, ‘aven’t you ‘ad any lunch either?” she asked, leaping to her feet and heading to the end of the table where, in the section of the room that Sam was more used to seeing speakers setting up their computers and simulations, Jenny had an arrangement of hampers from which she was clearly producing a picnic.

 

“No…” Looking sheepishly at Jenny, Sam ran her fingers through her short blonde hair, making it look even tuftier than it normally did, “I did have some blue jello though…” She remembered getting as far as the Commissionary queue before being summoned back to the Gate Room in a rush to talk to one of the teams that were offworld and in a spot of bother.  As she’d set off to return to the Gate, one of the servers had thrust a serving of jello into Jake’s hands, and she’d managed to catch up with it an hour or so later, right before her 304 meeting.

 

“Jel-lo?” Confused by the new term, Jenny looked at Osgood, who she had clearly decided was her official translator.

 

“Jelly, usually fruit flavoured.”  Glad Jenny hadn’t been stumped by anything more complex, Osgood had enough breath back to provide enough of an explanation that she thought the Victorian would be able to follow.

 

“Thanks.”  Jenny smiled before looking sharply at Sam, “blue?  What sort of fruit’s that then?”

 

“Allegedly mixed berries,” explained Janet, who had arrived through the other door to the one Sam had used just in time to hear Osgood’s explanation and Jenny’s follow up question, “but it’s actually just a taste all of its own and the General is about the only person on the Base who likes it.”

 

“It’s the best flavour!” protested Sam goodnaturedly.

 

“It’s not a flavour, it’s a colour,” pointed out Janet, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the ever present urns at the far end of the room, “but there’s no accounting for taste.”  Smiling at Sam by way of greeting and assurance that she was, as the blonde knew already, just teasing her, Janet approached the table.

 

“Those sandwiches look good…”

 

“Do none of you remember to eat right?” asked Jenny, amazed at how these clever women could be so silly about something so straightforward as eating, especially considering it wasn’t as if they had to try too hard to find something to eat, not like when she’d been a kid.  “Don’t answer that,” she muttered, realising that she’d probably spoken out of turn and so instead concentrated on cutting the last piece of the pie (that Vastra might have been hoping to save) into two slices which she put on china plates along with cucumber and roasted ham sandwiches. “‘Ere, tuck in to that.” She put one plate in front of Janet and walked down the room to give the other plate to Sam.  “There’s cake for after.”

 

“Thank you Jenny.”  Janet glared down the table at Sam who, on seeing food in front of her, had suddenly realised how hungry she was and started to demolish the pie.

 

“Mmm, thank you Jenny,” she mumbled, her mouth full of a particularly tasty mouthful of she had no idea what.

 

“I’m sorry Jenny…” began Janet, slightly despairing at the emergence of Sam’s ‘inner airman’ as Janet often thought of it.  If it weren’t for the fact that, as both wife and doctor, she knew quite how many times Sam had indeed been at death’s door due to starvation, Janet might have found it harder to forgive her wife’s occasional aberrations when it came to table manners.

 

“It’s alright Miss…” began Jenny, retaking her seat and looking across at Osgood who grinned at her and nodded her agreement with what she’d just worked out Jenny was thinking, “I mean Janet.  Me and Osgood had just agreed we put up with their table manners cos the rest’s pretty alright.”

 

There was a brief pause whilst Janet untangled what Jenny meant by that statement and ate her cucumber sandwiches which were surprisingly good whilst Vastra and Kate exchanged a look that saw them both agree that, on balance, they’d take that particular statement as a compliment.

 

“I’d say the rest’s very alright Jenny,” declared Janet with a warm smile after she’d swallowed her final mouthful, a smile that was quickly interrupted with a wide yawn.  “Oh, excuse me.”  Yawns, as everyone who has ever sat through a long and tedious meeting late on a sunny Friday afternoon knows, are extremely infectious and it didn’t take much for everyone to start following Janet’s lead with varying degrees of success at hiding them.

 

“This is ridiculous,” said Kate, finally managing to get her jaw back under enough control to start talking again, not surprised at what was happening when she considered how long it had been since she’d slept.

 

“I agree,” said Vastra, being the next person to muster up enough control to contribute to the conversation, courtesy of being Silurian.  “What do you suggest?”

 

“It’s rather up to the General…” began Kate, looking at Sam who shrugged and continued to eat her sandwich, which Kate elected to interpret as ‘they’re your aliens’ and resumed her explanation.  “The SGC ‘protocol’ would be for us to be invited by General Carter to stay in the VIP quarters on this Base…” No one needed to be an expert in Silurian body language to understand what Vastra thought of that plan.  “The UNIT ‘protocol’ is a bit more…adaptable and as long as General Carter is prepared to let me be in charge…”

 

“Which I definitely am,” confirmed Sam promptly, relieved Kate had taken over the explanation of something that currently less than nothing was known about, which always made it a bit challenging to explain.

 

“‘In Charge’ means pays the bills and make Strax and the Dogs apologise.”  Kate had been watching Vastra and Jenny during her exchange with Sam and was pleased to see her explanation helped clear up some of Jenny’s visible confusion.

 

“‘e doesn’t mean to make trouble, ‘e’s just…”  Jenny wasn’t quite sure what the best way was to describe Strax’s skill at making mistakes in certain types of situations.

 

“The Doctor refers to him as ‘the potato-head’,” Vastra had meant her contribution to be helpful, but based on how accurate her wife’s elbow was at finding her softer scales on her side, she had obviously been misunderstood.

 

“Sontaran.”  Jenny looked pointedly at Vastra before turning back to look at everyone, “‘e’s just a Sontaran.”

 

“It’s fine, really.”  Kate tried to reassure Jenny that she really didn’t mind having to apologise for Strax’s misunderstanding-induced destruction, but it was Osgood who finally managed to get Jenny to relax again, when she worked out what Jenny hadn’t quite understood.

 

“It’s because Strax is Sontaran that we don’t mind.  The ‘Dogs’, ah, the soldiers in UNIT don’t have that excuse.  They really should know better.”

 

“Ah.”  Jenny thought for a minute before looking at Vastra, “it’s the same as you with Scotland Yard!”

 

“Quite.  They too should really know better than to try to solve certain crimes unsupervised.  But we have wandered from your point Kate.”

 

“Yes.  So, since I’m ‘in charge’, then unless Osgood here tells me we can’t do something because of the paperwork…”  Kate looked at Osgood, her bottom lip caught between her teeth in an attempt to not yawn whilst waiting for Osgood to confirm whether there were any limitations on what she could apologise for: UNIT’s approach was very much along the lines of it being better to ask forgiveness after saving the planet rather than waste time asking permission and being anihilated whilst waiting for a signature in triplicate.  It did unfortunately mean she had acquired a lot of practice at delivering the sincere sounding but fundamentally meaningless apology, but on the plus side, that at least meant the planet was still viable and humanity still in existence.

 

“Which is unlikely, although…” Osgood yawned, “..sorry…” she repositioned her glasses which she’d managed to dislodge whilst yawning, “Madame Vastra?”

 

“Yes dear?”

 

“Please don’t eat anyone without asking for their Identification Papers first.”  Osgood yawned again, realising that now she’d started she was probably unlikely to stop until she was actually in a position to sleep, “if that’s possible.”

 

“Of course.”  Vastra inclined her head in agreement, “is there a prescribed form of identification paper that is preferable?”  Vastra was intrigued - when she thought about Osgood’s request, it wasn’t that she must not eat people, just that she must make an attempt to identify them first.  Did that mean she was expected to eat people?  Or would there be food such as she had become accustomed to eating?  Certainly their ‘hosts’ appeared to be extremely satisfied by her wife’s cooking, in fact too satisfied if the absence of leftovers was any indication.  Realising that her thoughts were wandering, Vastra made an effort to concentrate on what Osgood was saying again.

 

“Ah…” Osgood thought for a moment, chewing on her lip whilst she tried to remember what had happened the last time the disappointingly ordinary JF78 forms had been used, “given where we are, ‘Drivers’ License’ should be fine.”

 

“Drivers’ License.”  Vastra repeated the phrase once more to check she had mastered it correctly, which, based on Osgood’s reaction, she had.  “Very well.  I will remember," she declared, inclining her head once more, and getting an answering nod from Osgood which, unsurprisingly, was once again interrupted with a yawn.

 

“Anything else?” asked Kate, looking at Osgood to see if she wanted to add anything else to her list.

 

“I don’t think so…” Osgood thought for a moment, “no, nothing else.”  Which wasn’t to say there weren’t a few things she would prefer it if they didn’t do, but that wasn’t the same as couldn’t do.

 

“So, since we’re playing by UNIT’s rules, what we need is a hotel recommendation.” Kate had just managed to finish her explanation before she was surprised by another yawn, complete with an audible crack of her jaw that saw the humans in the room wince and Vastra consider whether she had ever seen a human jaw extend to that degree of openness whilst remaining in joint.

 

“Nonsense.  No point having spare bedrooms unless it’s to enable friends to stay.  Consider yourselves invited to stay with us.”

 

“I’d accept,” suggested Sam mildly, her face confirming that she was completely supportive of her wife’s offer, “she’ll only make it Doctor’s Orders if you don’t.”

 

“That is a most kind and generous offer Janet, thank you.”

 

“You are very welcome Vastra.”  Janet smiled at the Silurian before her face clouded into a frown.

 

“Is there a problem Janet?” asked Kate, wondering what had prompted the change of mood, “we can easily stay in a hotel…”

 

“No!  Nothing like that…” Janet was quick to reassure, “it’s just…” she looked at Sam to see if she’d worked out what was causing Janet alarm, but unsurprisingly, her not particularly domestically aware wife was as confused as the UNIT visitors. “...I wasn’t expecting guests…”

 

“It’s alright Janet…”  Jenny grinned as she realised what the issue was, “I’m sure I can work out how to use a duster and bed linens.  They can’t ‘ave changed that much since this morning!”


	19. Moonites and Equines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As previously, I use both 'elevator' and 'lift' in this chapter - this isn't an editing error, but reflects the 'native tongue' of the character speaking/in 'focus' at the relevant point in the chapter.

“Eleven.”

 

“Pardon?”  Thinking Osgood was talking to her, Kate turned off the tap and headed towards the hob with the kettle.

 

“Eleven,” repeated Osgood, looking up from her laptop which she’d managed to get connected up to the UNIT servers shortly after they’d arrived just over half an hour ago.  “But I wasn’t talking to you.”

 

“Charming!”  Kate occupied herself with putting the kettle on the hob and turning it on.  “Are you sure this is the only kettle?” 

 

“Unless you use the coffee machine, yes.”  Osgood gestured in the direction of the gleaming coffee machine that was set up on the counter in the corner, “but I don’t think it would make a particularly good cup of tea.”

 

“No…”  Looking skeptically at the coffee machine, Kate repositioned the kettle so it was more centrally sited on the hob before leaning against the countertop, watching her partner work away on her laptop.  “Eleven what?”

 

“The number of American Government Issue people carriers you need to transport the same amount of luggage as a one horsepower Victorian carriage.”  Osgood repositioned her glasses and looked at Kate for a second before returning to her laptop and making a further note, “actually, it’s a one to one ratio between boot space and trunk, assuming the trunk is intended to be carried by a Sontaran.”

 

“That is not going to translate well,” concluded Kate after a moment’s thought, putting her hands in her pockets as she untangled the pitfalls that sentence was going to cause in international intergalactic relations, no doubt the first of many.  “And have you mentioned that one Sontaran is equivalent to 4 US Marines?”

 

“No.”  Osgood looked up, frowning, “because Max would be in trouble if I did.  And what do you mean, not translate well?”

 

“Your sentence, won’t translate well into American?  All those trunks…” Kate gestured vaguely, the mini-surge of adrenalin and energy that had got her through the logistical adventure that was relocating from the SGC to Sam and Janet’s home wearing off.  “...it’s not going to make any sense to an American.”

 

“Oh.”  Understanding Kate’s linguistic point but not seeing her concern, Osgood read aloud what she’d written, translating into ‘American English’ as she went.  “A one to one ratio between trunk space and trunk, assuming trunk is… I see what you mean.”  Osgood’s frown deepened as she tried to come up with an alternative.

 

“Packing case?”

 

“A one to one ratio between trunk space and packing case, assuming the packing case is intended to be carried by a Sontaran…” recited Osgood, her smile increasing as she spoke, “thanks.”  She looked up at Kate, “that makes much more sense.”

 

“Some would say ‘sense’ is relative.”  Kate busied herself with removing her cufflinks whilst she waited for the kettle to boil, having not bothered to get changed when they had arrived at Janet’s.  She had however, in deference to being ‘off duty’ left her jacket upstairs in their room, and was in just her pale blue shirt (cuffs re-fastened by Osgood after Janet had finished her medical) and suit trousers, while the lime green heels that Janet had admired hours earlier had been abandoned in favour of some thick fluffy navy blue socks that were technically Osgood’s. “Fortunately they’re not the sort of people who read UNIT reports.”  She dropped one of her cufflinks on the floor.  “Bother.  My glasses are upstairs.”  

 

“Can’t take you anywhere, can I?” teased Osgood, closing her laptop and pushing it to one side, having spotted the silver greyhound shoot across the tile floor and end up next to her chair.  “I’ll get it.”

 

“Thanks...”  Kate waited for Osgood to finish reaching down for the cufflink before passing her the second greyhound which she’d managed not to throw across Janet’s kitchen.  “Why would Max get in trouble?”

 

“What?”  Osgood repositioned her glasses which were feeling a bit askew after her cufflink retrieval mission.  “Come here, you’re getting crumpled,” she added, seeing Kate’s rather haphazard attempt at rolling up her sleeves.

 

“I feel crumpled…” muttered Kate, nevertheless walking around the kitchen table to stand near enough to Osgood that, for the second time today, she could have her sleeves rolled up neatly for her.  “And you said that including how many Marines it took to move a trunk would get Max in trouble.”

 

“Manual handling rules.” Osgood let go of Kate’s right arm and waited for her to turn slightly, so that Osgood could start on her other sleeve.  “And you don’t look crumpled.”

 

“Os…” Kate knew that Osgood rarely deliberately spoke in riddles to her, but did have a tendency to overestimate what Kate remembered.  “What on earth are you talking about?”

 

“The trunks should have been moved by four UNIT personnel, not two.  The UNIT Health & Safety protocols are very clear on that, and Max knows this.”  Osgood completed her final fold and smoothed over the neat edges of Kate’s sleeve, satisfied that both folded sleeves were now of approximately symmetric lengths and stopping just below her girlfriend’s elbows.

 

“But that would have taken twice as long,” Kate concluded, remembering that even with the six UNIT soldiers working in pairs, it had taken long enough to unload their accumulated luggage into Janet’s garage that Kate’s feet had gone numb.  “And it was snowing.”

 

“Which is why,” continued Osgood patiently, unfastening Kate’s watch, “Max did the sensible thing and ignored the manual handling rules so that we’d all get out of the snow sooner.”

 

“But the little Health and Safety pipsqueak..”

 

“Pip Trevit, he’s called Pip Trevit,” corrected Osgood, knowing Kate did know the name of the current Geneva appointed Health and Safety auditor, “and he’s not a pipsqueak, just…”

 

“Called Pip and squeaks whenever I’ve tried to talk to him!”

 

“He does that when he’s nervous apparently.  And don’t look like that...” warned Osgood lightly, enjoying their unexpected silliness as she watched Kate do an excellent impression of Gordy’s ‘who? me?’ innocent face, “...you know you teased him in last week’s staff meeting.”

 

“All I asked was when he’d expected the Dogs to complete their risk assessment forms…” Kate knew she was losing, but didn’t care - she’d happily lose to Osgood in these sorts of teases every day if it meant that she was guaranteed a few minutes alone with her to just be ‘Kate’ and not the boss.

 

“Before or after the phone boxes started chasing them was not a fair question!”

 

“I’m sorry, should I come back later?” 

 

“Janet!”  Surprised, Osgood spun round on the chair, Kate’s watch still held in her hand.

 

“Tea?” offered Kate, gesturing to the kettle which was obligingly starting to rattle suggesting a piercing whistle was imminent.

 

“Would you be offended if I said I was going to have some wine?” asked Janet, now dressed in jeans and a soft wool jumper, her hair still a bit damp from the shower that she’d taken once the first four of her unexpected guests had been settled in the two en suite guest rooms.  “I don’t know how you manage to cope on just tea.”

 

“We don’t,” confessed Kate, grinning conspiratorially at Janet as she returned to the now whistling kettle and turned both it and the hob off, “we just found the kettle before we found the corkscrew.”

 

“Top drawer, over by the fruit bowl,” directed Janet, opening the fridge door but immediately closing it without looking inside as she decided she was in more of a red wine mood, “is red ok?”

 

“Lovely,” agreed Kate, finding the corkscrew in the drawer Janet had directed her to as Osgood murmured her agreement too.

 

“Which glasses do you want Janet?” asked Osgood, heading over to the cupboard she’d remembered seeing various shaped glasses in when they’d been earlier looking for tea mugs, absently putting Kate’s watch in her pocket as she moved.

 

“Anything,” said Janet, finding the wine she was looking for on the wine rack, only to start searching to see if she had more than one bottle of it, as she doubted one bottle would stretch very far between the six women, assuming Jenny took a glass as well as Vastra. “Though there should be six matching ones, top shelf I think.”  

 

“Ah yes.”  Osgood started to stretch up and bring down the glasses, only to be surprised by Kate’s hands on her hips, causing her to twitch in surprise and turn her head to glare in Kate’s general direction.  “Your fingers are cold!”

 

“Sorry.  I was trying to help.”  Kate stepped back and slightly to the side so that it was easier for Osgood to look at her, “you were wobbling at full stretch…” murmured Kate, not particularly wanting Janet to hear her concern.

 

“Thank you.”  Osgood’s cheeks had coloured slightly as she realised that Kate was still concerned about her wheezing which was struggling to settle down in the cold mountain air.  The top shelf had been within her reach, but when she’d seen that Janet’s suggested ‘six the same’ were actually engraved crystal glasses, she’d forced herself to start to stretch to her maximum reach so that she could take the glasses by the bowl not the stem.   Stepping to the side so that Kate could stand right in front of the cupboard, Osgood decided to make a virtue out of her fractionally shorter reach and took advantage of the opportunity to just study Kate.

 

“Os…” As Kate placed the first two wine glasses safely on the counter, she glanced at her girlfriend, although not wearing her glasses she couldn’t actually confirm that she was looking at her like she was a new item for the Black Archive, but Kate was certain she could ‘feel’ the scrutiny.

 

“Yes?”  Osgood’s poker face and ability to sound innocent were vastly underrated by Whitehall Official and alien alike, but rarely if ever worked on Kate, and certainly didn’t work when she’d waited until Kate had stretched up and reached for the next two glasses.

 

“Breathe.”  Kate continued to ostensibly concentrate on lifting down the remaining glasses from the high shelf, but she was listening intently, relieved when she heard Osgood’s deliberate and steady breaths, a familiar sound that she recognised as being her lover’s ‘I’m ok, but concentrating on breathing’ rhythm.  “Better?” she asked quietly, reasonably confident that their conversation was not going unnoticed by Janet but equally confident the doctor wouldn’t interfere.

 

“Thanks…” Osgood smiled tentatively at Kate, feeling a little foolish that she hadn’t noticed her breathing getting progressively shallower and shallower but glad that Kate had noticed.  She was about to say something else when a rather strange, almost alien sounding gurgling noise started.

 

“What’s that noise?” Janet stood up sharply on hearing it, each hand holding a different bottle of red wine.  “And why’s Kate blushing?” she added, noticing how Kate’s shirt was pulled a little loose at the waist and Osgood’s cheeks were also a little highly coloured.

 

“Because that noise is her stomach,” explained Osgood, glancing around the kitchen and spotting the fruit bowl, which had a couple of bananas in it.  “Do you mind if we?” Osgood gestured towards the fruit, distracting Janet from Kate who was going redder as her stomach continued to make most impressive (but apparently not remotely painful, or so Kate had repeatedly assured Osgood over the years) noises.

 

“Help yourself.”  As Osgood grabbed one of the bananas, Janet was surprised at how brown they’d turned, having a fairly strong memory of sorting amongst the bananas in the store, trying to find the greener ones.  It was only when she had put down the bottles on the table and opened the fridge to see what she could suggest as a quick supper for all six of them, that she realised why the bananas weren’t as green as she’d remembered.  “Umm…” Leaning against the open fridge door, Janet considered the contents which could optimistically be described as ‘sparse’.

 

“Everything ok?” asked Osgood, Kate currently occupied with eating her banana and trying to work out why her stomach was so noisy given that she’d had plenty of Jenny’s excellent baking during the day at the Base.

 

“Do you think Madame Vastra and Jenny would be ok with take-out?”  By way of further explanation, Janet opened the fridge door wider so that Osgood and Kate could see inside.

 

“Oh…” Osgood tried to remember if she knew anything about what traditional ‘home-delivery’ cuisines were most likely to be familiar in late-Victorian London.

 

“Not pizza,” said Kate, mid chew, her banana almost gone.  “I don’t think they know what it is, but Indian or Chinese is fine, and fish and chips.”

 

“How do you know this?” asked Osgood, surprised at the confidence with which Kate answered the question.

 

“Parker’s reports.  Vastra’s not that fond of fish and chips, and prefers Indian to Chinese.  Jenny quite likes all of it.”

 

“What about Strax?” Janet was curious to know what the Sontaran made of the different types of food, having not really got past his insistence that this couldn’t be Glasgow because he hadn’t had any beer or a good fight yet.

 

“He likes chips, according to Parker.  Actually he’ll eat anything, but Parker’s strong suggestion is to not let Strax anywhere near Indian.”  Kate looked around for where to put her banana peel, before Janet pointed to the general bin by the end of the worktop - in theory she wanted to compost and recycle, but in practice, the compost bin hadn’t really combined all that well with getting stuck on base for a fortnight dealing with an alien emergency, so she and Sam just recycled.

 

“What happens?” Osgood was struggling to stop her imagination kicking into overdrive as she considered all sorts of possible reactions that would force Parker to make a ‘strong’ suggestion in a formal report.

 

“Apparently the spices trigger a previously undocumented metabolic response…” stalled Kate, trying  to remember what Parker said happened next.

 

“Wait, it was a curry that caused Strax to go bright yellow and sweat?”

 

“That was the least of our problems Osgood,” said Vastra calmly, joining the three 21st century women in the kitchen, “Jenny will join us in a moment.”

 

“Is she ok?” asked Janet, concerned in case the change of century was proving even more of a shock to Jenny than the discovery that the comforter (duvet as Osgood had called it) was as light as a single blanket but as warm as ten.

 

“She is insisting on unpacking and has deemed my assistance to be counter-productive,” huffed Vastra, not entirely surprised at her wife’s rejection of her help (Vastra and Jenny held vastly different opinions on what constituted a well-folded garment) but not entirely comfortable rejoining their hosts without Jenny at her side.

 

“I will go and see if I can help…” began Kate, only for Osgood to catch hold of her sleeve, stopping her heading off.

 

“Why don’t you help Janet with the order?” suggested Osgood pointedly, reaching into her trouser pocket as she spoke and extracting a credit card which Kate recognised as one of the ‘for use in the USA’ UNIT cards Osgood had sensibly brought with them, “you know what I like,” she added, handing the piece of plastic to Kate who, much to Osgood’s relief, seemed to have taken the hint.  “I’ll go see if I can help Jenny, if that’s alright with you Vastra?”  She looked across the kitchen to the Silurian who was looking at them both in a way that Osgood couldn’t interpret, but then she hadn’t been having much luck with Vastra’s facial expressions all day.

 

“Thank you my dear, that would be most kind.”  Vastra bowed her head slightly in Osgood’s direction. “Jenny can also tell you the story of what happened when Mr Strax ate our first and last tin of curry powder.”

 

“No problem.”  Osgood returned Vastra’s nod before glancing at Kate who gave her a reassuring wink of encouragement, which helped to bolster her confidence. “Back in a jiffy!” 

 

“Kate dear?”

 

“Yes Vastra?”

 

“What sort of costume is a jiffy?”

* * *

  
  


“Mr Parker?”

 

“Yes Strax?”  Parker kept his gaze on Lady Penelope as she was guided through the halls of the SGC towards the lift that would take them all to the surface where apparently a very comfortable horse box was waiting to take her to a temporary stable for the duration of their visit.

 

“They are here.  And I do not have my grenades!”

 

“Who are here Strax?” Parker patted Penny’s rump as he walked up to her head, giving her nose a scratch whilst they waited for the lift, sensing rather than seeing his short Sontaran shadow.

 

“The Moonites.”  It was ironic really, but a Sontaran attempted whisper was several times louder than Strax’s usual voice.  “And my laser canon is with my acid pourer.  In Paternoster Row.”  

 

“Are you sure?” Parker was only half listening to Strax, being far more concerned in making sure that Lady Penelope got to her temporary accomodations without distress - he would never make Sergeant if anything happened to her.

 

“Madame Vastra would not let me bring it.”  Strax looked folornly at his dry boots, “so it is with my laser canon, next to my battle plans for defeating the Moonites on the glorious field of battle!”  Strax tried to finish his promise of victory with a rousing salute of some kind, but only succeeded in punching Parker in the shoulder.

 

“Strax!” Acting on instinct, he reached blindly out to his left and ‘noogied’ Strax, the rubbing of a knuckle into the shining dome of a Sontaran head being somewhat effective as a retaliatory measure.

 

“Mr Parker, kindly desist with your noogieing.”

 

“Then stop with the punching.”  However, being fundamentally kind, Parker did stop, confident that he had made his point… “and stop laughing.  He’s got quite a right hook.”

 

“Sorry…”  Jake Spirelli didn’t sound sorry but did manage to suppress his laughter into a sort of hiccuping cough which he then tried to get Lady Penelope to cover up for him by tickling her under her chin, which sure enough, made her whiney and nicker in contentment.  Max on the other hand, made no such attempt, and continued to chuckle, taking care to stay out of range of both Penny’s hooves and Strax’s punch.

 

The elevator doors opened and it was touch and go who was more surprised - Lady Penelope (who had never met an automatic door before) or the scientists who were already riding in it.

 

“Uh, we’ll get the next one,” decided Jake, as if it was an everyday occurance to be waiting for the elevator several hundred feet below ground, holding the reins of a 130 year old horse.

 

“Mr Parker?”  Oblivious to Lady Penelope’s distress, Strax was still concerned about something.

 

“What is it Strax?” asked Parker through gritted teeth as he concentrated on soothing Penny with some late Victorian peppermints he still had in his frock coat pocket.

 

“The Moonite is preparing to attack!  It is delivering its battle-cry!”

 

“Strax, what are you talking about?”  Parker glared at Max as he turned to look at Strax, knowing better than to say what he really thought of his friend’s enjoyment at his expense, at least not with Strax or Jake Spirelli in earshot.

 

“The Moonite!  It is…”

 

“Preparing to attack and you don’t have your laser canon or acid pourer,” agreed Parker, pleased that Penny was suitably calmed by the combination of his voice, the peppermints and Jake’s apparently unlimited supply of noise rubs and chin tickles.  If he wasn’t careful, Penny would have a new best friend by the time they got to the surface.  “I heard you the first time.  Where is the Moonite?”  

 

“There!”  Strax, pleased that Mr Parker was finally paying him attention and ignoring that attention seeking horse, turned and pointed his arm at the Moonite.

 

“Strax?”

 

“You may not share this battle with me Mr Parker!  The Moonite is mine to defeat or die on the field in glorious battle as I fight to for the glory of my clone batch!”

 

“STRAX!”  

 

“Please don’t shout Mr Parker, my auditory canals are functioning most excellently and your loudness makes them hurt.”

 

“I’m sorry Strax, but that is not a Moonite.”

 

“They are master experts of disguise.  I am certain it is a Moonite.”  

 

"Max?”

 

“Yes mate?”  Max’s reply was just about decipherable through his laughter induced hiccups.

 

“You better get the next lift,” said Parker, pleased to see that the moment the lift doors had opened a second time, Penny had obediently followed Jake straight in, clearly prepared to do anything for a chin scratch.

 

“What?  Why?”  Confused, Max continued to walk towards the lift, only to suddenly feel a solid thump to his… most delicate part, prompting him to double over, but not before groaning and glaring at Strax as he subsided.

 

“Mr Strax thinks you’re a Moonite.  Come on Strax.”  And, knowing he would probably get in slight trouble with Vastra for allowing Strax to headbutt Max (she was trying to teach him the battle equivalent of ‘table manners’ with little success), Parker pulled a delighted Strax into the lift.

  
Served Max right for enjoying himself too much….


	20. London Calling...

“Let me go find Sam’s tablet, it’s got the websites bookmarked.”  Janet poured the end of the first bottle of wine into her glass, nodding towards the second bottle that she’d opened at the same time as the first, “help yourselves to more,” she added, somewhat redundantly when she noticed that Kate was already reaching for it.  “I’ll call the Base as well, find out when Sam’s due.”

 

“Top up?” asked Kate, holding out the bottle in Vastra’s direction, not sure what the Silurian’s tolerance was for drinking red wine on an empty stomach - Kate was incredibly grateful for her emergency banana that Osgood had given her but wasn’t sure the overripe fruit would find similar favour with Vastra.

 

“Thank you.”  Vastra watched as the rich red liquid poured into her glass.  “What is the situation Kate?” she asked finally, realising this was the first time she had been properly alone with the daughter of her old friend.

 

“Specifically?” prompted Kate, concentrating on not spilling the wine as she refilled her own glass and waiting for Vastra to provide a little more focus to her question, knowing better than to second guess such seemingly straightforward questions.

 

“With you and Osgood.”  That hadn’t been what Vastra had intended to question Kate about first, but it had been a long day and she was concerned with how Jenny was actually coping with the feeling of being an alien on her own planet, a feeling Vastra was all too familiar with.  Plus, not that she’d ever admit it, Vastra had always been rather keen on gossip and had struggled to cope with having no one to really gossip with or about.

 

“I…” Kate was speechless - of everything she might have expected the Silurian to want to interrogate her about, and she was under no illusion, it would be an interrogation once Vastra got going, that was not a topic she’d prioritised.  “Did my father put you up to this?” she asked suddenly, wondering if there was a potentially gut-wrenching twist to a tale that had clearly started years earlier when she was an adventuring toddler more eager to investigate the night than sleep.

 

“No my dear.” Vastra took a sip of the wine which was quite pleasant, in its own strange way. “At least, not directly.”  She saw Kate’s face cloud with emotion and suddenly regretted bringing this matter up without her wife present - apes were so difficult to understand when they just wiggled their noses and shifted their mandibles.  It would be so much easier if they were more skilled at controlling their pheromones, then she could just taste the air rather than having to try to read their faces.  “I ask mainly for my own peace of mind.  It is strange, but I have thought of you often - in many ways you are the nearest I will ever come to having a hatchling of my own.”  Vastra tilted her head, her sharp hearing picking up a voice, only to realise it was Janet speaking on the telephone elsewhere in the house.  “I presume your organisation has records about me that you are familiar with?”  

 

“Yes.”  Although Kate knew Vastra’s question was basically rhetorical, she decided it was probably best to provide a verbal confirmation as well, knowing from those very records that ‘ape’ facial expressions and body language were not areas in which Vastra professed to have much skill, although she was inclined to agree with Parker’s assessment that she was more skilled than she let on to.

 

“Then you will know that I did not cope well with the discovery that I was alone and expected by the Doctor to learn how to live amongst the species that I had been taught to consider an inferior lifeform and could identify as being the reason for my sisters’ demise.”

 

“As a species, we didn’t exactly make a good first impression…” Kate sipped her wine, watching for any reaction from Vastra as she did so, not yet confident in her ability to ‘read’ the Silurian.  “So I’m not going to hold it against you.”  In fact, and it had been something of a painful truth to accept about herself when she’d first started having to consider such things, she knew that had their positions been reversed and she’d been in Vastra’s scales (complete with the superior reflexes, strengths and a very long and lethally venomous tongue) she would have not only reacted in the same way Vastra had, but she doubted she’d have ‘calmed’ as quickly as Vastra had.

 

“Your father made a similar observation - I think that might have been why the Doctor thought I would benefit from meeting him.  I understood from his reaction to my presence that I was not the first of my kind that he had met, although the Doctor would not permit him to explain nor did I care to ask.”  Vastra’s willingness to accept the Doctor’s wish had surprised and puzzled him, until she had pointed out that clearly her Silurian kin had been unsuccessful in surviving their contact with the apes as in this time that they were visiting, there were plenty of apes with authority and not one single Silurian keeping them in their place.  It was all too obvious what had happened, so obvious that a hatchling would have worked it out.  “And I still do not,” said Vastra quickly, realising that her comments could be misunderstood by Kate and an explanation offered which she had no desire to hear.

 

“I understand.”  And she did.  For as much as she had relished the opportunity to pour over her father’s files and papers, both personal and at the Tower, she soon realised that for every one of her questions that was answered, countless more were posed, and not all were easy cope with.  

 

Many were easily set aside or ignorable, cast from her mind with useful catch-alls like ‘he was adhering to the Protocols’, or ‘it was the Doctor’s plan’.  Some were answered by a combination of Winifred Bambera’s explanations  and her own experiences of being ‘the one in charge’ - it was a different time, with different attitudes and approaches to now.  She’d certainly not had to start by eliminating the Cold War threat every time they received a questionable ‘ping’ from anywhere east of Berlin, at least, not yet, and not that far west;  equally, she was fairly certain her father hadn’t had to persuade GCHQ that their ‘suspicious chatter’ from a ‘highly organised and well connected terrorist cell’ was actually a Yurtapi family’s audiobook of ‘The Wombles’ (in translation) that they’d been rather taken with whilst obediently waiting out their mandatory 96 hour quarantine orbit before their fortnight’s holiday in the Isle of Wight (Five Star on TripAdvisor apparently).

 

“Yes,” said Vastra thoughtfully, wondering what it was that taught Kate it was sometimes better not to know but, in a rare moment of tactfulness, knowing it was better not to ask, “you do.”

 

“How many times did you meet my father?” 

 

“No more than ten or twelve, all evenings in his study.  Some nights the Doctor stayed for our whole discussion, sometimes he left us to go elsewhere on this planet in that night, and some nights he took the Tardis and went I know not where in time or in space.”  Vastra smiled fondly at Kate as she remembered those evenings in which she’d learnt so much about the beings these apes had become.   “But you were not in the house for more than a handful I think?”

 

“Probably not…” Kate sipped her wine as she tried to work out how to most sensibly summarise a situation that she didn’t know very much about.  “My parents’ marriage did not last, so depending how much time elapsed between your visits from my father’s perspective, my mother would have moved away.”  She wasn’t certain how conversant with ‘divorce’ Vastra would be, unable to recall much about the social history of divorce.  “I grew up in Chichester with my mother and her parents.  It was…” Kate caught her lower lip between her teeth and considered how she might describe that period of her childhood that in so many ways now felt several lifetimes ago, before Gordy, before UNIT, before Os… “A very different world to London and the Doctor,” she concluded finally, looking at Vastra with a completely shuttered expression that even the Silurian recognised as a warning to not probe further.

 

“Do you still command from the Tower of London?”

 

“Lead rather than Command,” corrected Kate gently, seeing Vastra’s head tilt to the side as she considered what the distinction meant.  “My father was a soldier who became convinced of the need for scientists to be permitted to help.  I am a scientist who expects the soldiers to give the scientists a chance to lead.”

 

“But you are a Brigadier?”

 

“Technically.  I have no military commission or qualification, but the position that I hold within UNIT requires me to be recognised by those who do as equivalent in rank to that of Brigadier.”

 

“The finest warriors know to use their heads before their hands, and yours is a wise head,” complimented Vastra, raising her half full wine glass in toast.  “But you have not answered my original question,” she teased, her blue eyes sparkling with humour when she saw Kate do something she’d heard her wife describe as ‘squirming’.  “What is the situation between you and Osgood?”

 

“Ah.  Yes.”  Kate took a moment to glance towards the door, hoping that Janet would return enabling her to distract Vastra with talk of curries and websites and anything but her relationship with Osgood because, hard as it might be to believe given everything that they’d coped with in the decade or more since they’d ‘got together’, she didn’t actually know what to say about their relationship.   It just was.  “It…” 

 

“What is that?” Vastra was suddenly standing, her body tense and her tongue darting rapidly in various directions as she tried to pinpoint the source of the disturbance.

 

“What is what?” asked Kate, not giving Vastra her full attention as her phone was vibrating.

 

“That!” exclaimed Vastra, looking at the small box that appeared to be pulsating a coded sequence now it was no longer concealed about Kate’s person.  “Is it a weapon?”  She did not want to think ill of the daughter of a man she’d considered one of her first friends, especially not when they had so many other friends in common, but ultimately, Vastra was suddenly acutely aware that the few occasions she had previously meet Kate they had been in the presence of the Doctor and so she had not given any thought to any possible threat she might pose either then or now.

 

“What?” Confused, Kate looked down at the screen, seeing it was the Tower calling and knowing she had to answer it, but could at least then ask them to wait, probably.  “Excuse me a moment Vastra.”  Ever the diplomat, Kate smiled reassuringly at Vastra as she accepted the call which silenced the ‘ringing’ which, given her phone was set to vibrate only, was actually a rather loud buzzing noise, and spoke with the Tower’s Duty Officer long enough to tell them to hang on a moment.  “Is what a weapon?”

 

“That device…” Now it was no longer buzzing, and furthermore it appeared to be something that was obedient to Kate’s will, Vastra was relaxing slightly, although the scales on the back of her neck were still tingling, and would do as long as she did not know that there was no threat.  “It is a communications device?”

 

“Yes.”  Suddenly Kate understood what Vastra’s issue was.  “It’s a mobile phone.”  But that didn’t really help much with diffusing the situation she was now caught up in.  Fortunately though, the door was opening and Janet was leading Osgood and Jenny back into the kitchen, giving her a solution.  “Os?”

 

“Yes?” Osgood passed Kate her glasses which she’d brought down with her.

 

“Thanks.  The Tower’s called…” she held up her mobile by way of explanation, “...while I deal with them, could you explain what a mobile is?”  Not giving Osgood a chance to reply, for which she knew she would have to apologise for later, Kate put the phone back to her ear and moved out into the hall to resume her phone call.  “Go ahead Lieutenant.”

  
  


“It’s Captain Stewart Ma’am.”  Max reached out and pulled Strax towards him, not wanting the Sontaran wandering too far away from him.

 

“Everything ok?”  Despite the rather convoluted connection, the sound quality was sufficiently good that he didn’t need to be Greyhound One’s son to hear the skepticism in her voice.

 

“Diplomatically peaceful Ma’am,” he said eventually, grateful when Parker appeared and could take over keeping an eye on Strax, enabling him to move out of the Sontaran’s earshot.

 

“But?”

 

“It’s Commander Strax…” Max was pleased to be able to walk a few paces across the Stargate Command car park, taking the opportunity to stamp some feeling back into his feet - he would have worn different socks to work this morning if he’d known he was going to end the day in a snowstorm in Colorado.  “I think he’s homesick Ma’am.”  He heard Greyhound One sigh which couldn’t be a good thing as that no doubt meant she was pinching the bridge of her nose, and that was definitely never a good thing.

 

“It’s been a long day so just tell me what you want me to agree to Max please?”

 

“Ma’am?”  Max was reasonably sure he was understanding what she was saying, but wanted to make sure.

 

“I hospital passed Os in order to take this call Max…” That, realised Max, was definitely his mother talking, his tired, hungry and potentially in the dog-house mother if she felt she’d dumped something on Osgood that she felt warranted that description.

 

“I think he’s a bit scared and confused, well, more confused than he usually is.”  Max turned around and watched Parker try to convince Strax into a snowball fight.  “He doesn’t want to have a snowball fight with Parker… I think he’s missing Madame Vastra and Ms Flint.”  He rubbed his midriff.  “And he thinks I’m a Moonite.”

 

“I’m sure he doesn’t…” Kate turned around and headed back down the hall towards the kitchen, knowing she couldn’t take the decision Max wanted taken on her own.

 

“He does, was quite clear on that.”

 

“What did he do?”  As she asked the question, she entered the kitchen to see Vastra and Jenny apparently having a conversation with each other from across the kitchen using Osgood and Janet’s mobile phones.

 

“Headbutted me in the stomach.”

 

“HE DID WHAT?”  

 

There was a long moment in which no one in Janet’s kitchen moved, before Osgood walked up to Kate and took the phone from her, glancing at the screen before putting it to her ear.

 

“Is that you Max?” she asked, making a very informed guess - ‘Kate Stewart’ did not react like that, to anyone, and of the three people on the planet that could make Kate Lethbridge-Stewart react like that, only one would be speaking to her on her mobile having been connected via the Tower.

 

“Yes.”  He stretched his back, trying to get his tactical vest to settle more comfortably on his shoulders.

 

“I’m going to put you on speaker - Janet Fraiser, Jenny Flint and Madame Vastra are with us.”  Not giving him a chance to object, she pressed the relevant button and put the phone on the kitchen table with one hand whilst nudging Kate in the direction of the chair she’d been sitting on moments before the blonde returned with her other.

 

“Ah, hello?”  At the sound of a voice filling the room, Vastra reacted on instinct and shot her tongue out towards the phone and slapped it.  “What was that?”  

 

“Sorry Max, I haven’t got as far as explaining the speakerphone function to Madame Vastra.”  Osgood looked at the Silurian.  “This is Captain Stewart, he is still at the SGC with Parker and Strax.  Mobile phones can also be turned into speakers so that a group of people might participate in the conversation.”  Osgood paused, not wishing to patronise Vastra with an overly long explanation, but nor did she want her licking Kate’s phone again - for one thing, it wasn’t the waterproof model.

 

“My apologies Captain Stewart,” Vastra inclined her head towards Osgood as she spoke, acknowledging and thanking her for the explanation at the same time.  “What has Mr Strax done?”  Osgood wasn’t the only one capable of making informed guesses.

 

“He thinks I am a Moonite Ma’am.”

 

“You are not harmed I trust?” At Vastra’s question, Janet’s face shifted from one of politely concealed amusement to open concern, now understanding Kate’s otherwise unexpected reaction, assuming that was what she’d just been told by her adopted son as she’d entered the kitchen.

 

“He has quite a powerful headbutt Ma’am, but the vest took most of it.”

 

“Vest?”  Vastra’s question was asked in a loud whisper which Max could hear but diplomatically pretended he could not.

 

“Tactical Vest - it helps soldiers carry their equipment.  Often it will have Kevlar plates in it…” Janet quickly tried to think of an appropriate comparison that both Vastra and Jenny would recognise.  “It’s our version of armour I guess…” Vastra was looking less confused, but Jenny was still looking somewhat puzzled.

 

“Waistcoat,” said Kate suddenly, rejoining the conversation.  “Americans call them vests.”  Seeing Jenny’s face lighten with understanding, Janet made a mental note to find out what Jenny had thought she meant when she said vest.  “Your theory is that he’s homesick Max?” asked Kate, her focus back where it needed to be.

 

“You believe he is missing Sontara?” added Vastra, considering this possibility with concern.

 

“Paternoster Row, actually…” Max rubbed his hands together, grateful that he was able to have this conversation via his radio headset so at least his fingers weren’t going numb holding a phone.  “I think he’s missing you and Ms Flint Ma’am.”

 

“I see.”  If Vastra wasn’t Silurian her cheeks might have pinked slightly at this conclusion - it had not occurred to her that Strax might be missing them.

 

“Weren’t ‘e going to play with some grenades?” asked Jenny, tentatively joining the conversation, remembering the big Captain from the infirmary as being the one who understood about Vastra being cold.

 

“We haven’t mentioned it to him yet Ms Flint.  I was going to tell him about it once Parker had returned from getting Lady Penelope settled.”  There was a sentence he never thought he’d say, thought Max, watching Strax scuff his boots through some snow.  “But, well.  It’s just a hunch, uh instinct,” he corrected quickly, not sure if ‘hunch’ was an idiom that was Victorian in origin.  “That he might not do so well with strangers.”

 

“Janet?”

 

“Yes Jenny?”  Janet had a pretty good idea what she was about to be asked, but after twenty years or so of working at the SGC, she’d learned to recognise when it was better to not guess.

 

“‘E’s ‘ouse-trained, and good at fetching logs n’ coal…”  Janet looked from Jenny’s hopeful face to Vastra’s calm one to finally, Kate who nodded, having formed the same conclusion that Max had.  Osgood meanwhile, was tapping something out on her phone, prudently getting started on the paperwork.

 

“Captain Stewart?  Dr Fraiser speaking.”

 

“Good evening Ma’am.”

 

“I think the loft is suitable - why don’t you three boys come round for a sleepover.”

 

“Ma’am?”  As he spoke, Max waved at Parker, catching his attention and giving him a thumbs up - he hadn’t expected an invitation to join the others at Dr Fraiser’s house, having just been hoping for permission to keep Strax with the UNIT soldiers who were being temporarily garrisoned at the SGC tonight ahead of maybe arranging a visit to see Vastra and Jenny tomorrow.

 

“If Strax is off-colour, bring him round here so Madame Vastra and Ms Flint can help Parker keep an eye on him.  The last thing we need is a homesick Sontaran who’s become a pacifist,” explained Kate, pleased that this had been discovered before Strax went off with the Marines as they’d originally planned.  "It was supposed to be a treat not a punishment.  He can spend tonight here and we’ll have another think in the morning,” she reasoned, watching Janet who had stood up so she could distance herself slightly from their speaker phone conversation in order to call the SGC.

 

“I will speak with him in the morning about this.”  Vastra’s voice was gentle, with a warm almost Scottish sounding lilt to it that Max hadn’t heard before, but Jenny knew was how her wife sounded when she was concerned.  “Perhaps he has wet his feet again?”  Vastra looked admiringly at her sleeves, having refused to remove the garments she had been given at the SGC.  “Might he need new boots?  With some of this fleece material in them?”

 

“I’ll talk to ‘im,” declared Jenny, overruling her wife who, whilst well-meaning, was unlikely to actually get the truth from Strax, who was more likely to sulk and argue with her than admit what was troubling him.  “With Parker an’ a cup of tea.”

 

“That’s organised,” interjected Janet, rejoining the conversation, only to suddenly realise she’d possibly just trampled all over some UNIT protocols and upset the chain of command, prompting her to add, “that is, if you don’t mind Kate?”

 

“Carry on, please,” encouraged Kate, smiling in reassurance at Janet, not remotely upset that she wasn’t the one giving the orders - after all, this wasn’t her kitchen and Strax, whilst her liability, wasn’t her responsibility, or Butler.

 

“Captain Stewart?”

 

“Yes Doctor.”

 

“Transport will meet the three of you topside in 15 minutes and bring you here.”

 

“Thank you Ma’am, we’ll be ready.  I’ll let Parker advise Commander Strax.”

 

“Chicken…” teased Kate, preparing to end the call.

 

“No Ma’am.”  Max set off walking across the car park to rejoin Strax and Parker.  “Moonite, apparently.”

 

“Goodbye Max.”  At Kate’s nod, Osgood, who was the closest to the phone, reached forwards and ended the call, before pushing it across the kitchen table so Kate could reach it and put it back in her trouser pocket.

 

“One question, if I may?”

 

“Only one Janet?” Kate was impressed if that was really the case, but more importantly, was pleased to see Jenny and Vastra both show signs of amusement at her poor joke, suggesting that they were at least still comfortable in this rather strange circumstance everyone was finding themselves in, courtesy of the Doctor and his Tardis.

 

“What exactly is a Moonite?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> For those that are not familiar with the phrase, 'hospital pass' originated in the game of rugby and describes a player throwing (passing) the ball to another player at such a moment and in such a way that a heavy physical tackle on the receiving player is inevitable and most likely sees the catcher being invalided out of the game, hence 'hospital pass'. It's tactically got somewhat sinister undertones as you're throwing the ball to your team mate who has no real options other than to catch the ball.


	21. Method in the Moonites

“Left handed.”

 

“What was that my dear?”  Even with Silurian hearing, Vastra had struggled to make out whatever it was that Osgood had quietly mumbled.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry.”  Osgood looked up at Vastra, her cheeks pinking as she reached to adjust her glasses, not realising she’d been mumbling aloud.  “I said left handed.”

 

“Fleming’s rule.”

 

“What? Oh, no.”  Osgood looked at Sam, frowning at the apparent random interjection, only to blush even more when she realised that she’d just dismissed a perfectly legitimate answer given by a world-leading scientist.  “Well, yes, that is, not in this context, but there is a  Fleming’s Left Handed Rule…”

 

“Are you talking about Max?” asked Kate, making an educated guess about what Osgood might have been thinking about that ‘left handed’ applied to, if it wasn’t some mnemonic method of remembering something to do with electromagnetism that she’d vaguely remembered helping both boys learn a decade earlier when GCSE revision was the battleground during school holidays.

 

“Yes.”  Shooting a grateful smile in Kate’s direction, Osgood looked across the coffee table to the two armchairs where Vastra and Sam sat.  “I was thinking about why Strax believes Max is a Moonite.”

 

“Embedded intelligence agent within the Moonites,” corrected Vastra, remembering how that was the only way Kate and she had been able to get the Sontaran to accept Captain Stewart was not an enemy agent, and even then it was with quite a lot of suspicion.  It had, however, been good enough to get him out of the porch and into the house before his feet got wet again, so they’d claimed the small victory and left the Sontaran to his muddle.

 

“Max is left-handed,” explained Osgood, wondering if she was about to make a fool of herself, “something that was, is rare in your London M… Vastra?” She still hadn’t quite managed to drop the ‘Madame’, but was at least catching herself before she’d finished saying it, something she’d not quite managed to completely sort out when it came to her verb tenses.

 

“I…” Vastra’s intended quick answer stopped when she realised that, now Osgood mentioned it, she couldn’t actually remember seeing educated apes using their left hand ahead of their right one.  “I think Jenny will know the answer, but now you mention it, I cannot recall observing an educated ape use their left hand before their right like Captain Stewart does.”  She sipped her tea, giving the matter some further thought, oblivious to the smiles that were being exchanged between Sam and Kate, both blondes managing to ‘hear’ Jenny’s automatic commentary ‘ancient lizard woman from the dawn of time’ accompanying the Silurian’s ape statement.

 

“And he wouldn’t have seen any left handed Sontarans?” asked Sam in an attempt to contribute something to what was an otherwise completely surreal conversation as far as she was concerned, which was saying something considering her overall alien experience was quite extensive.

 

“Unlikely.”  Osgood nevertheless lapsed into silence whilst she gave this assumption some rigorous thought, so Kate continued with the explanation for Sam, confident Vastra would interrupt her if she got it wrong.

 

“Sontarans are cloned specifically to be warriors in battle.  Although there do seem to be some different templates, based on our various recorded contacts with them, they are basically the same overall design.”

 

“Short, loud and rather keen on explosives?” guessed Sam, hoping that her guests wouldn’t take too much offence at her bluntness.

 

“Loud certainly, keen on exploding things absolutely, short usually…”  Kate tucked some stray strands of hair behind her ear whilst she tried to remember some of the other subtleties the UNIT species profile highlighted, “aesthetically modelled on a baked potato, and rather clumsy when it comes to fine motor skills.”

 

“Having three fingers and no opposable thumb doesn’t help with that,” agreed Sam, trying not to look too amused at the baked potato comment, although it was a very accurate description.

 

“Not always - as near as we can tell, the hand configuration can vary.  We’ve had dealings with some Sontarans who have five fingers including an opposable digit.”  Kate looked at Osgood, her memory failing her as to what else was in the profile.

 

“We think it’s to provide different types of warriors, with some predestined to be the Sontaran equivalent of expendable infantry troops and others destined for artillery and aerial combat…” Osgood repositioned her glasses, conscious that Vastra was studying her very intently.

 

“Which would require some degree of fine motor control, fascinating.”  Vastra blinked, her tongue tasting the air as she did so, telling her that Jenny was returning downstairs, with what Vastra was beginning to identify as Janet Fraiser’s scent in the air too.  “I have had little contact with Sontarans - they were not in this space when I was a hatchling.”  

 

“Of course.”  Kate smiled at Vastra, mentally apologising for naively presuming that the Silurian would be any more experienced with Sontarans than the rest of them had been prior to the arrival of Strax in her household, an apology that seemed to be understood and accepted, if the positively regal dipping of the ‘crown’ of ridges was correctly interpreted.  

 

“How do we stop Strax thinking left-handed people are Moonites?” asked Sam, looking between Osgood and Vastra, not liking the idea of the Sontaran randomly head-butting (or worse) people when he saw them leading with their left hand - for one thing, she had no idea how prevalent left handers were at the SGC but suspected it would make rostering airmen even more complicated than it already was.

 

“I’m not sure…”  Hearing the door open, Osgood glanced up, only to smile when she saw it was Jenny and Janet returning from overseeing Strax, Parker and Max getting comfortably established in the loft room.

 

“Not sure about what?” asked Janet, immediately heading for the sideboard where their small selection of hard spirits and the brandy was kept.  “Drink anyone?”

 

“How to stop Strax thinking a left-handed person is a Moonite,” summarised Sam, before adding a request for a whiskey - it wasn’t often that she had anything stronger than a beer or glass of wine, but some days she felt every inch the General, and today she was reasonably confident she’d earned it.

 

“Oh.”  Not sure what else to add, Janet gathered up some glasses and the bottles of brandy and whiskey onto a tray which she put on the coffee table between the four seated women, intending that people could help themselves to what they fancied.

 

“‘E’s alright now,” said Jenny, studying the labels on the bottles carefully, concluding that Vastra would be better with the French Brandy and pouring out a small amount into the balloon glass that Janet had provided, before going and sitting on the arm of the chair her wife was occupying.

 

“He is?”

 

“Well, ‘e’s alright with Max.  We explained that he was part of your clone batch, and since you’re a Brigadier…”

 

“So that was what he meant when he declared that he must honour the Brigadier’s clone batch even if they’re defective?” asked Janet, following Jenny’s lead and sitting on the arm of Sam’s chair handing over the drink.

 

“Yes.”  Jenny looked at Kate.  “Sorry, ‘e don’t mean offence like, it’s just…”

 

“Max and I don’t exactly look alike,” confirmed Kate, not remotely bothered about Strax’s conclusion.  It wasn’t the first time she and Max had been dismissed as mother and son because of an understandable lack of family resemblance, but it was hard to hold it against Strax, given his literally alien upbringing.  “So they’re ok up there?”

 

“Fine.”  It was Janet who answered, her smirk suggesting that she’d recognised Kate’s question was asked more as a mother than out of commanding officer concern.  “Max did say you could go and tuck him in if you wanted, but ‘could Os tell them the bedtime story as she was better at them than you’.”

 

“I’ll…” Any threat Kate might have made about what sort of revenge she would get on her son for his cheek was cut off by Osgood, who looked rather pointedly at her and observed calmly.

 

“You’ll nothing.  It’s exactly what you would say, and you know it.”  Laughing, Kate had to concede the truth in Osgood’s statement.

 

“He is my son…” she agreed, only Osgood knowing how bittersweet that statement was for her lover, for as much as she loved Max and had adopted him without a second thought, she’d have loved for his parents to have seen him grow up.  “...and exactly like his brother.”

 

“Strax asked if it would have explosions in it…” 

 

“If what would have explosions in it my dear?” asked Vastra, looking up at Jenny expectantly, not liking the idea of him being given access to explosives this early.

 

“Osgood’s story.  ‘e likes stories with explosions in them best.”  Jenny looked apologetically at Osgood.  “‘e doesn’t often get jokes, so ‘e gets all muddled.”  Seeing Osgood start to frown, Jenny rushed on to explain, “but ‘e’ll be alright…”

 

“I can go and tell them a story.”  Osgood felt a yawn coming on and covered her mouth so she didn’t set everyone else off again, like had happened in the briefing room earlier.  “I should head to bed soon anyway…”

 

“You don’t have to, the boys knew Max was joking, even if Strax didn’t,” confirmed Janet, seeing Jenny nod in agreement.  

 

“That’s ok, I need to talk to Max anyway,” explained Osgood, thinking that if the Sontaran wanted a bedtime story she could manage to come up with something - for supposedly ‘girly’ youngsters, her nieces were remarkably keen on explosions in their bedtime stories too.  She stood up and turned to look back at Kate who she knew needed to talk to Sam, having not had a chance to talk to the General since she’d returned from the Base, arriving only a minute or two before their Thai food delivery.

 

“Oh? Everything ok?” Kate looked at Osgood for any clues that there was something else going on that she was supposed to be aware of, her quietly asked question covering everything from UNIT administration to family matters via everything and anything personal or professional.

 

“Fine.”  Osgood leaned forwards and kissed her lover’s forehead, the first real display of affection that the others had seen between the two, although there was no doubt in its intimacy despite its briefness.  “I’ll be awake…” she whispered as she stood up, Kate’s smile confirming that was the right thing to say.

 

“I’ll show you where the boys are,” said Janet, recovering from her surprised yawn and giving Sam’s shoulder a squeeze that conveyed much the same message to Sam as Osgood’s brief kiss had to Kate.  “All things considered ladies, this has been one of my busier days off.”

 

“I’m sorry Janet…” began Kate, only to be silenced by the wave of the doctor’s hand.

 

“Nothing to be sorry for Kate, I was already up and getting ready to  go back to the Base when you rang.  Just don’t hold it against me when there’s no breakfast tomorrow.  Today’s plan had been housework and shopping...”  She didn’t need to add that it also hadn’t included seven houseguests representing multiple species and centuries.

 

“Er…”

 

“Yes Jenny?” Janet looked over at the Victorian who’d tackled making beds and putting out fresh towels with a vigour that would have left the toughest of Drill Sergeant exhausted.  “Have you got a breakfast picnic with more of those scones somewhere?”  

 

“Not exactly… that soldier, who found the food for Lady Penelope?”

 

“Sergeant Siler?” suggested Sam, knowing he’d been involved in sorting out the temporary accommodations for the horse until she’d been cleared to leave the Base and head to some nearby stables.

 

“No, the other one, with the metal legs.”

 

“Jake, Jake Spirelli…” Sam wanted to ask how Jenny knew about his prosthetics, knowing her Marine aide was incredibly proud of the fact that most people passing through her outer office didn’t know he had been seriously wounded in Afghanistan, but sensing that it would be fairer to wait until another time to get that answer from someone.

 

“Jake got your kitchens to pack up some eggs, butter and things for me, so we’ve got breakfast, assuming you don’t mind me using your kitchen?” Jenny’s confidence with them was increasing but it still ebbed and flowed a bit at times when she’d suddenly doubt herself or see something that reminded her she wasn’t in Paternoster Row.

 

“Of course!  That sounds wonderful Jenny, thank you!” Janet’s relief at having the breakfast conundrum solved was tangible, and Vastra wasn’t the only one to see the positive effect it had on Jenny.

 

“I’ll need some help…” began Jenny, standing up, intending to go upstairs with Janet and Osgood, “...I ‘aven’t worked out how to light your fires yet…”

 

“We’ll help you,” promised Osgood, heading for the door, knowing that the sooner they left, the sooner everyone would get some much needed sleep tonight.

 

“Vastra?” Jenny paused in the doorway, looking back at her wife.

 

“I’m hopeless at fires as you know my dear…” Vastra chuckled when she saw Jenny’s expression and body position change to one she was  _ very  _ familiar with, privately terming it the ‘stop being a hatchling’ look.  For all her struggles with ape expressions, she could differentiate between them far more easily than she could ascribe meaning to them, although she’d mastered most of her wife’s expressions, especially the ones that were accompanied by other physical mannerisms such as the subtle shaking of the head, quiet ‘tut’ and rather adorable little shoulder wiggle.  “But will join you upstairs momentarily.  Do I need to ‘tuck in’ Strax?”


	22. Check, Mate and Contract

 

“Osgood?”

 

“Yes Jenny?”  Osgood paused outside the bedroom Jenny and Vastra were staying in, the room she and Kate were using a little further down the landing.

 

“Is she really cross?”  At Jenny’s question, Osgood turned round and, trying to ignore how tired she was, concentrated on giving the Victorian her full attention.

 

“Who, Janet?” Despite Janet’s continued assurances in the face of careful questioning by both Kate, Osgood and Jenny at various points since they’d left the SGC earlier that she was completely unfazed about having a house full of unexpected guests, Osgood mentally prepared herself to provide further assurance to Jenny that she didn’t need to worry.

 

“No, Kate.”

 

“Kate?”  Osgood blinked, looked at Jenny in confusion, blinked again and still didn’t understand Jenny’s question.  “Cross with who?”

 

“My daft lizard.”

 

“Oh.”  Caught between being surprised at Jenny’s perceptiveness and impressed at her ability to ‘read’ Kate, Osgood wasn’t entirely sure what to say, so, unable to adjust her scarf because it was in their bedroom, she took off her glasses and started to polish them.

 

“Only, she don’t mean it like, being rude….” began Jenny, thinking from Osgood’s silence that she was right, and Kate was really cross with her daft lizard.  “Well, she does, sometimes, but not with Kate…” Frustrated that she wasn’t making her point the way she wanted to, her confidence fading again when she saw Osgood put away her handkerchief and start to put her glasses back on, Jenny tried again, her words tumbling out even faster, “not specific like, anyway.  She’s just sometimes, clumsy like, in how she uses her words, forgetting that she’s not with all her sisters…”

 

“It’s fine Jenny,” interrupted Osgood carefully, trying to look relaxed and friendly so as to not make Jenny’s nervousness worse.  “Really.  Kate’s not cross...at least, not cross with Vastra.”

 

“But…” Jenny frowned, trying to understand what Osgood was and wasn’t saying.  “I thought… but ‘er jaw…”

 

“Do you play bridge?”

 

“Bridge?  You mean the card game?”  Jenny didn’t really understand why Osgood was asking the question, but seeing her nod, Jenny assumed she had the right sort of bridge.  “Not really...we’ve got a book about it, and we’ve read the rules but Strax isn’t very good at card games…” That was the problem with games that required four people, unless they involved throwing things, Strax was more likely to upset the game than play it properly.  “We’re better at jigsaws… but there’s a new one we like, Ludo, ‘ems alright as twos and threes….”  Jenny canted her head to the side as she considered Osgood thoughtfully.  “Why’d you ask?”

 

“Kate plays, she’s very good.  But you seem to be very good at reading Kate, so…”

 

“Could we play?  A proper game do you think?”  Completely forgetting to wonder why the card game had even been mentioned in the first place, Jenny’s excitement at the idea of being able to actually play a real game of Bridge with people who were good was tangible and infectious…. “Vastra would love that.”

 

“I’m sure we can…” Osgood wasn’t as good as Kate at bridge, preferring chess but she was good enough to be able to partner Kate in part because being able to read Kate better than anyone else made up for her deficiencies as a bridge player.  “Max plays too.”  You couldn’t grow up in the Lethbridge-Stewart household and not play bridge and chess, or understand the leg before wicket rule in cricket.

 

“Are you sure she’s not cross? I mean, she seemed cross…” Jenny’s body language told Osgood her bridge suggestion had found favour, but it was clear that despite this, Jenny was still concerned about the occasional moments of coolness between Kate and Vastra.  Osgood had hoped it wouldn’t have been picked up by anyone else, although she wasn’t that surprised that Jenny had noticed, given it involved Vastra.

 

“She’s not cross with Vastra,” repeated Osgood, smiling in a tired attempt at reassuring the clearly concerned Jenny, “but Vastra did talk about some things that made Kate cross.”  Jenny opened her mouth to speak again but saw something in Osgood’s expression that made her close her mouth again.  “She’s…” Osgood frowned, having a good idea what was making Kate cross, but not wanting to talk to Jenny about it before she’d had a chance to spend some time with Kate.  “She’s not cross with Vastra, she’s just...cross that Vastra had to tell her about some things that she’d hoped other people might tell her… so she might be cross when Vastra’s talking, but not...”

 

“I understand.”  This time, Jenny did interrupt Osgood, and, when Osgood looked up at her, she could see that the Victorian did understand, and probably understood far more than Osgood did at this precise second.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“Sorry?”

 

“‘E doesn’t mean it, you know.”

 

“Who doesn’t mean it?”  It was Osgood’s turn to be confused.

 

“The Doctor.  ‘E doesn’t mean to hurt people with his secrets, not really....”

 

“No…”  Osgood shared Jenny’s sad smile as they both thought about their various interactions with the Doctor during his highs and lows in the different regenerations that they’d met, "...I know he doesn’t mean it…”

 

“Give yours an ‘ug?  From me and Vastra?” asked Jenny, feeling another yawn coming if she wasn’t careful.

 

“Thank you…” Despite everything, Osgood was sure her cheeks had pinked slightly, not being very experienced at talking openly about her relationship with Kate to people who weren’t their immediate family, but she appreciated the request.  “Please do the same, to Vastra?  From both of us?  It’s… it’s not easy for you both either.  Strax too…”  Osgood remembered the Sontaran, lying in his bed as she went to say goodnight to them all and, most importantly as far as UNIT was concerned, to get some completed paperwork from Max  that Kate could now sign, giving him the official authority to assume command of the local UNIT seconded troops: not that anyone would have questioned his authority after Kate had ordered the removal of the local commander, but it was nice to be official.  Administration complete, Osgood had obliged with a story for the Sontaran, full of explosions.  It was only as she’d left the converted attic room with Janet and Jenny, and had looked back to see Strax wishing Mr Parker and Captain Stewart good rest, cuddling Max’s very ammunition free rifle that was serving as a substitute for his favourite laser cannon, that she’d realised quite how far from his home, both planet and time, Strax was.

 

“I will…” Jenny’s battle with her yawn ended in victory for the yawn.  “We’ll be alright, you’ll see.”

 

“Yes, we will,” agreed Osgood swiftly, before matching Jenny’s yawn with one of her own, something which Jenny suddenly found funny enough to start her giggling… giggling that Osgood soon found was infectious…

 

* * *

  
  


If anyone mentions the weather, I’m going, decided Sam, taking another sip of her second small whiskey and concentrating on keeping up a diplomatic smile.  She’d run out of small talk topics almost as soon as the awkward silence had descended on them, missing Daniel’s ability to speak at a moment’s notice on pretty much anything, to anyone, in all manner of languages.  Hell, she’d even have taken an overly sarcastic, ill-judged quip from Jack but instead had to make do with offering another round of drinks.

 

“Was it cold? When you left London?”

 

“Uh, I’m just going to grab some leftovers, midnight snack…” If the speed with which Sam jumped to her feet and headed for the door was unbefitting of a General, she really didn’t care.  In fact, she left so quickly that she missed the poorly concealed look of amusement that appeared on Kate’s face and would have, had she been looking, probably have correctly interpreted Vastra’s expression as a Silurian smirk.

 

“That was not very subtle Vastra,” observed Kate dryly when she was confident Sam was out of earshot, not because she minded Sam hearing her point this out to Vastra, but because she had no idea how Vastra would response.

 

“Samantha was hungry, and I do not see why subtlety is required when broaching the subject of meteorology.  Even apes would not be that stupid, despite your small minds…”  The new sound in the air caused Vastra to pause as she tried to place what the low pitched, grinding noise was.  Canting her head slightly, so as to get a better ‘feel’ for the vibration, she realised that Kate’s mandibular region looked larger and...swallowing, her tongue feeling dry in her mouth, Vastra realised that the source of the noise was Kate, and the daughter of her old friend was effecting the noise with her jaw, just like… “You are cross with me.”

 

“Pardon?” Kate made a conscious effort to relax her jaw and keep her shoulders down and back, her face neutral.

 

“You, your mandibles are moving…” Vastra reached into her memory for the phrase the Brigadier had used, “you are grinding your jaw.”  She couldn’t stop the slight twitch of her face into a faint smile when she saw the slight shift of Kate’s jaw as the observation triggered a reflex response in the blonde.

 

“Teeth.”

 

“What of them?”

 

“The phrasing is ‘grinding your teeth’ and ‘clenching your jaw’.  There is no direct contact between the upper and lower jaws, so there is nothing to grind.”  Kate’s face relaxed further as she considered the surrealness of her situation, correcting a Silurian’s idiomatic English usage whilst the snow presumably kept falling outside, reminding her that whatever it might feel like, it wasn’t ‘home’.

 

“I see.”  Vastra considered this for a moment.  “Yes.”  She looked contemplatively at Kate, considering everything that had happened since she’d arrived through the ‘Stargate’, everything that she’d said and heard.  “The Doctor had the same effect on your father as he does on you, my dear, but that does not mean he is not honourable, nor does it mean you are not his friend.”

 

Kate remained silent as she considered Vastra’s words, occasionally taking a sip of her whiskey while she thought, sifting through memories not just from her childhood, but from subsequent conversations with her father and the Doctor.  Occasionally, she’d frown without realising it, her facial expression an involuntary response to whatever it was she remembering.  Vastra, feeling warm, well fed and with her shoulder not too sore now her arm was comfortably strapped to her chest with one of their travelling shawls, the makeshift sling supporting her arm allowing her shoulder to relax and rest, the Silurian was content to let Kate navigate her own thoughts for a while.  

 

Eventually, her patience was rewarded.

 

“Osgood plays chess…” began Kate, watching the light from the table lamps reflect in her whiskey as she absently swirled it round her glass.  “She plays it very well, far too well for me to give her a game, a proper game…” She sipped her whiskey, marvelling at how the small sip trailed a line of fire down her throat, the sensation impressively disproportionate to the volume of liquid consumed.  “There’s a handicapping system, for chess.  Did you know that?”  Kate looked across at Vastra who sat tall and relaxed, her gaze steady as she paid attention, respecting that this was Kate’s confidence to give rather than a confession to be forced by close questioning.  “I didn’t.”  Kate’s gaze shifted, to the picture hanging on the wall just behind and to the right of Vastra’s crown ridge.  “Made sense though, when Os explained… a bit like golf in a way, and yet… She still plays games with the boys, my sons, but I can’t.”  Kate sighed and she refocused on Vastra.  “Even with the handicap, even when it’s  _ Os,  _ I can’t stop feeling like I’ve lost before I’ve started, before I’ve moved my first piece.  Whatever I do, however random I am, there’s going to be a defence or an attack, some play or strategy that will mean defeat is inevitable…”

 

“Have you ever been victorious?”

 

“There are ticks in my win column, if that’s what you mean.”  There was a harshness in Kate’s words that even Vastra, with her self-declared difficulties in understanding ‘apes’, could identify as being at odds with how Kate had been talking about Osgood moments earlier.

 

“I see.”  Vastra shifted in her chair, taking care to find her new position to sit in that made conversing with Kate comfortable without stressing her strained shoulder, moving her immobilised arm or hurting her neck.

 

“You do?”

 

“An important lesson that all warriors must learn at an early point in their training is the difference between failing to lose and being victorious.  You consider the times you ‘beat’ Osgood at Chess to be occasions when you failed to lose, not victories.”

 

“That’s one way of putting it…” Kate wasn’t one for self-pity, at least, not for sustained bouts of it, and certainly never when it came to thinking about Osgood.  “My point’s not about playing chess with Os though…”

 

“No my dear, it’s an analogy.  Your point is about the Doctor and your father.  I am just the messenger.”

 

“You’re not called ‘The Great Detective’ for nothing, are you Vastra?” asked Kate hollowly, raising her glass in a semi-sincere salute before taking a healthy gulp of the whiskey.

 

“No my dear, but do not downplay your talents…” Vastra acknowledged Kate’s toast with a smaller tilt of her own brandy.  “You did not become who you are by accident.”

 

“No…”  Kate drained her whiskey, thinking that she should go and find her bed, Osgood and Sam Carter, not necessarily in that order, “...I think that’s becoming increasingly clear...”


	23. Discoveries Warm and Knotty

After wishing Madame Vastra good night, Kate sat, finishing off her whiskey and trying to order her thoughts.  Realising that she wasn’t going to complete such a task, at least, not without consuming more whiskey than was good for her, Kate turned out the lights in the room they’d been talking in and, using the tray Janet had produced, took the used glasses and coffee mugs through to the kitchen.  Surprised to find the lights on but no evidence of Sam, Kate found two glasses which she filled with water for her and Osgood.  Seeing the rinsed plate by the sink, she assumed that Sam had, after polishing off the remains of the rather large Thai food delivery that they’d earlier ordered and mostly eaten, taken herself up to bed.  Having finished tidying up as best she could in someone else’s home and turned out the kitchen light, Kate set off for bed, detouring via the living room again in order to reclaim her forgotten reading glasses that Osgood had remembered to bring down with her on one of her earlier trips upstairs.  It was therefore only when she was at the bottom of the stairs, a glass of water in each hand and her reading glasses propped on her head, that Kate noticed there was another light on, and she wasn’t the last after all.

 

“Kate?”  Sam Carter’s call caused the British woman to stop in the hallway, the light making her throw a shadow back into the study through the open doorway.

 

“I thought I was the last one up?” Kate turned back and stood in the doorway, her hands full with the water glasses which she remembered right before she tried to put her hands in her pockets, so she instead leaned against the doorframe.

 

“Does nothing stress you?” Sam’s question was sharper than Kate had expected, although she didn’t outwardly react or move from her relaxed position against the doorframe.

 

“The same is usually said of you.”  Kate took a sip from one of the water glasses while she considered what might be causing Sam’s uncharacteristic reaction.

 

“Sorry…” Realising the truth in Kate’s words, she scrubbed her hands through her short blonde hair and looked up at the other woman.  “Why don’t you look crumpled?”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“It’s what, 36 hours since you put that suit on?” guessed Sam, distracting herself from her main headache with what felt like a more manageable one.

 

“A little more than 48, now you’ve made me think about it.”  Kate glanced down at what she was wearing, as if checking that yes, these were the suit trousers she’d put on just after 6am London time on Thursday and, if her time differences were correct, it was almost breakfast time on Saturday.  “I stopped wearing my jacket, which helps.” She pushed herself back onto her feet and entered the study properly, seeing the edge of a desk she could perch on whilst Sam got to her point.  “And if I unroll my sleeves they’ll be a bit crumpled…” But only a touch, as Osgood was ridiculously neat and tidy when it came to rolling them up for her, unlike Kate herself, who invariably ended up with a thick wodge of fabric trapped on her elbow and the unrolled sleeve invariably resembled a used teabag.  “But thank you for reminding me when I last slept Sam.”

 

“You had an overnight flight on a private plane…” began Sam, recalling the one time she was on the receiving end of UNIT hospitality when she’d last been in Europe and had been taken by Kate to meet Central Command in Geneva.  “Oh.”  Mortified, she looked up at Kate and started to stammer her apologies - how could she have forgotten that, for everything else that Kate Stewart could cope with without blinking, she’d been forced to freefall from an exploded plane, without the assistance of a parachute.  Even SGC Command clearances hadn’t been high enough for her to know how Kate had survived which, given everything else she was allowed to learn about UNIT, told Sam that not knowing probably the best option. 

 

“It’s fine.” Kate, her hands free now the water glasses were placed on a convenient bookcase, waved Sam’s apologies aside.  “We cope.”  It was testament to both her and Sam’s tiredness that neither of them noticed she’d included Osgood in her answer.  “Now, even though he’s in his twenties and holds a Queen’s Commission, I would prefer to not still be asleep when my son decides it’s lunchtime…”  She looked at Sam expectantly, hoping she’d be kind enough to get to whatever her reason was for wanting to talk to before much longer as, if she was tired before she’d been reminded she’d been awake for two days straight, she was positively shattered now…

* * *

  
  


“Dearest?”  Vastra closed the bedroom door carefully behind her and looked around the guest room that she and Jenny were staying in, taking in the similarities and differences to their room at home.

 

“You an’ Kate make up?” asked Jenny, putting aside the book she’d been looking at while she waited for her wife.

 

“We had not broken anything, so there was nothing to make,” retorted Vastra stiffly as she walked over to her wife, before relaxing as she sat down on the side of the bed next to Jenny and acknowledging her wife’s less than impressed facial expression.  “But we have had a good conversation and are still on excellent terms... she is much like her father and yet different.”

 

“Well she’s a she for starters!” Jenny’s robust declaration was made as she shuffled in the bed so she was sitting up, the duvet pushed down into her lap, although thanks to the wonders of twenty-first century central heating and bedding, she didn’t notice.  Unlike her wife.

 

“You are ill!” Alarmed, Vastra reached forwards with both hand and tongue, trying to assess what was ailing her wife, completely forgetting that she’d been perfectly fine not that long ago and had been thoroughly assessed by the impressively competent Janet Fraiser earlier.

 

“What?”  Alarmed by Vastra’s alarm, Jenny glanced down at herself as she instinctively caught hold of Vastra’s hand, experience telling her that there was no point trying to defend herself from the Silurian’s tongue flicking around her, ‘tasting’ the air as only a Silurian could.  “Oh, no, I’m fine.”  Jenny looked back up at Vastra, trying to reassure her confused wife.  “Daft lizard…” she declared affectionately, reaching out with her hand that wasn’t already holding her wife’s and running her fingers lightly over the delicate scales on Vastra’s cheek.  “It’s these bed linens that ain’t normal, well, normal for us like.”  Jenny carried on her gentle caress, the fingers of both hands settling into a shared rhythm as she waited for Vastra to return to her more usual shade of green and for her breathing to steady as she recovered from her self-induced shock.  “It’s ‘ot in ‘ere,” she added, wiggling her legs a little so she made the duvet shift about.  “I was too ‘ot in my nightclothes, so I borrowed your vest…” Jenny glanced down at herself again, noticing how the sleeveless shift that Vastra wore under her dresses for added warmth was hanging loosely against her own smaller frame. 

 

“The bed is hot?”  Vastra canted her head to the side as she considered this new concept, it not having occurred to her.  “You mean it has warming pans we can keep in the bed while we sleep?” she asked, fascinated by the concept.  At Paternoster Row, they had some very fine copper warming pans which were filled with hot coals and embers from the fire before dinner and meant that when they retired the sheets were warm to the scale, but Jenny was very strict with her about not going leaving them in the bed while they slept in case they burned.  Vastra was sure there was a way around this, but hadn’t yet worked it out and so each night the warming pans were removed from their bed and left in the bedroom hearth.

 

“No…”  Jenny pushed back the covers so that there was a patch of mattress visible next to her hip, which she guided Vastra’s hand to.  “It’s a blanket, under the sheet.  Osgood explained it to me.”  Jenny chewed on her lip as she tried to remember exactly what the nice scientist had told her about it.  “It’s connected to the electricity and has special wires in it that get ‘ot in a controlled way...she set it so it got the bed warm all over and it keeps coming back on to keep us warm while we sleep.”

 

“Fascinating…” Vastra ran her hand over the mattress, feeling the warmth seeping through her scales in a way she’d only previously experienced from the hottest summer sun or her wife’s body.

 

* * *

  
  


“I received two signals just as I was leaving,” said Sam, abruptly changing the topic of conversation away from the sleeping habits of their respective children.

 

“Oh?” Even almost asleep, Kate was a practiced diplomat who instinctively knew how to show interest but not curiosity - she couldn’t think of any particular reason why Sam might mention two signals, Kate being reasonably confident that her fellow ‘commander’ probably received significantly more communiques via various means every hour of the day and year.

 

“Washington and Geneva…” Sam glanced at the desk, looking for where she’d put them down earlier.  “I didn’t know we still had the telex tickers at the Mountain,” she added, mainly to herself although she was hopeful that Kate might rise to the bait and explain why UNIT persisted in such an outmoded communication method.

 

“Vitally important network…” Kate searched the recesses of her memory for the specifics, knowing she’d co-ordinated the most recent protocol review some years earlier when she’d been based in Geneva. “The SGC should have 5, including the one in your office and that one on the shelf that isn’t connected.”  She nodded in the direction of small brass ornament that Sam was using as a bookend on the bookcase behind her desk, amused when the usually fairly unflappable General spun round in shock.  “Osgood can service it and reconnect it for you, since we’re here.” 

 

“That’s a telex ticker?” asked Sam finally when, having stood up and examined what she’d always considered was just a brass ornamental paperweight her Uncle George had insisted she kept when she’d inherited the mantle that was the SGC’s Command.  Despite examining the pair of objects, she’d not been able to discern what they did and so presumed they were a couple of Jack’s ‘doohickeys’ that had appealed to him - they were admirably tactile which, in her experience, was Jack’s primary criteria for a good ‘doohickey’.  But they’d been useful paperweights and bookends and before she’d really noticed, she had one at home and one in her office, being quietly useful.

 

“Yes, for receiving category…” Kate held out her hand for it and examined it carefully, looking for the identifier which she found just behind the punch pin, “...Tango messages.”  She passed it back to Sam who was looking at it with new found fascination.  “Definitely need Osgood to service it - we’ll need it for Tuesday.  And the other ones on the Base, although at least your Walrus receiver is working.”

 

“Walrus receiver?”  Sam was tempted to pinch herself to check she wasn’t already asleep and dreaming but this was Kate Stewart, whose aliens were a different to Sam’s.

 

“The telex ticker that received and printed those signals - it has two tape feeds that hang down outside the brown mahogany box a bit like…”

 

“The tusks on a Walrus, walrus receiver.  It’s in the corner of the guard’s office at the surface.”  Sam could picture it now, an elegant wooden cabinet that sat in the corner of the guard’s office at the roadway entrance, a strange juxtaposition with the concrete and LED computer screens.

 

“At least one of your receivers is working then… you mind if Os checks them all out before Tuesday?”

 

“Of course not.”  Sam was happy to agree to the receivers being checked out, just glad that Kate wasn’t cross that somehow, they’d managed to fall into disrepair unnoticed.  “Are they relevant to Tuesday?” asked Sam, her eyes darting towards the still unopened parcel that Kate had delivered to her from London.

 

“Not sure.  Hard to tell what might be relevant to Tuesday, but better to have them fully operational.  Were the signals important?”

 

“What?”  Not following Kate’s change of topic, Sam followed her counterpart’s pointed gaze towards the two messages she’d left on the desk in front of her.  “Oh, read them yourself.”  Sam passed them over to Kate, “I’m sure you’re cleared for them,” she added as an afterthought, not actually sure what the clearance level for them might be.

 

“I’d have thought so,” agreed Kate, reaching for her reading glasses that were still, miraculously, perched on the top of her head.  “Well, I wasn’t planning on sending a Christmas card to Colonel Jameson…”

 

“Your Washington Commander?” guessed Sam, recalling that the signal UNIT in Washington D.C. had sent to her had been short on respect for Kate and long on ego about their local support teams, whose Officer-in-Charge Kate had dismissed almost immediately.  

 

“Indeed.  My advice would be to ignore that one,” said Kate, knowing better than to enter into a conversation with anyone outside of Central Command about a fellow UNIT Leader, no matter how misguided the UNIT member or friendly the outsider, although she was certain Sam had already worked that out for herself - Kate wasn’t the only one having to cope with the over-promoted pompous male.

 

“Geneva agreed.”  Sam watched as Kate turned her attentions to the second signal which had been sent from someone in Central Command in Geneva - Sam didn’t recognise the signatory on the signal, but the SGC had eventually found their UNIT Codebook and been able to authenticate the signal as coming from someone with appropriately senior authority.  She was about to offer Kate the use of their code book when the British woman started chuckling, indicating she’d had no issue reading the signal as it was.  “I take it the sender is on your Christmas Card list?”

 

“No actually…” Kate handed the signals back to Sam as she took off her glasses and returned them to their perch on top of her head.  “But that’s because Winifred Bambera has known about me since I was a small child and considers herself an honorary ‘Aunt’ to my children.  I’d never hear the end of it if she received an ‘official’ Christmas Card.”  With effort, Kate schooled her features so she could respond with some degree of seriousness to the signal.  “I signed the authorities earlier and we’ve lodged them electronically with Central Command tonight, so you can effectively ignore that signal now too as it’s been superceded by the paperwork.”

 

“Good to know.”  Sam put the signals away in her file so that they could go back to the SGC whenever she next went in to be permanently stored wherever it was decided they were filing this particular excitement, “although I make a point to never ignore anything from a General.”

 

“Not even when it’s in rhyming couplet?” asked Kate, still not quite sure whether Win had achieved that particular feat deliberately or whether it was part of the code, although Osgood would know.

 

“Especially then.”

 

“In which case…” Kate thought for a moment before looking at Sam and saying, with great precision and care, “...although keen to conversation which is always a delight, I’d like to get to bed and therefore say goodnight, so could you ask any questions that you think are urgent now, so this Brigadier can soon find her pillow.”  Kate winced, “sorry, not quite a rhyme.”

 

There was a long pause as Sam looked at Kate in a mixture of shock, confusion and amusement before she quickly sobered and, taking Kate’s point with due seriousness, turned her attention to the matter that had been troubling her since shortly after she’d met Kate.

“Are you sure it doesn’t need securing?” asked Sam, nodding in the direction of the parcel which was sitting on the desk next to Kate’s hip.

 

“Yes.”  Kate looked from the packet that she’d brought from London for Sam back to Sam, surprised that it was still unopened.  “It won’t open itself.”

 

“Will you open it with me?”

 

“Chicken.”  Nevertheless, Kate shifted along the desk edge, so there was space for her to look at the packet without getting a crick in her neck.  “And I was never a Girl Guide.”

 

“That’s Brigadier General Chicken to you, Brigadier Know-it-all,” countered Sam good-naturedly, standing up.  “And what’s the Girl Scouts got to do with it?”

 

“Guides,” corrected Kate automatically, before elaborating.  “I don’t know my knots.”

 

“What do you think is inside it?” asked Sam, ignoring Kate’s tongue-twister response as she reached across the desk for a pen knife which would nullify any issue the knots might have posed. 

 

“Our tests indicated it’s paper, Earth Origin, probably UK based on the dimensions, 1970s government issue is our best guess.  We’re not sure about the ink, but my personal view is good old fashioned biro.”  Surprised, having not expected a materials science analysis, Sam just looked at Kate in shock.  “What?”  Kate shoved her hands back in her pockets, only to have to reach up again to catch her glasses which tumbled off her head when she’d smiled at Sam’s reaction.  “I know you like to think of us Brits as sweet old fashioned amateurs who do everything in slow motion while drinking tea and waiting for the next cricket match…” She knew Sam didn’t think that at all, but was astute enough to know what the persistent stereotype was.  “And trust me, I’d love it if that’s what we did, but we were hardly going to keep a package on your behalf until you were ready for it without doing a few checks.  We’re not Left Luggage at Union Station.”

 

“I get how you’d know it’s paper, and I think we’d have guessed UK too if anyone had thought to measure it…” Sam looked from Kate back to the parcel, which she now lifted up and turned this way and that for a moment or two.  “But I’ve no idea how you’d work out the other stuff.”  She put the parcel down and grinned with amusement at Kate.  “Did the ravens tell you?”

 

“Is that your way of asking if you can experience first hand if they’re really trained to kill?”  Kate failed to smother her yawn, which served to remind Sam that as much as she enjoyed the British woman’s dry humour and lightning quick wit, it was rather late for both of them.  Ripping off the string tied around the parcel, she pulled aside the brown paper wrapper to reveal….  “Told you.  1970s government issue and biro.  Oh, and carbons too.”

 

“Carbons?”  Confused, Sam ignored the text on the top piece of paper for the moment, instead trying to work out what Kate was talking about.

 

“Carbon paper used to make copies - you’ve got some sheets here that are the copies made using blue carbon paper.”  Kate pointed to the pages that were slightly larger than the majority of the pile which was the more standard A4 size, their text visible and fainter than the black print on the top page.  “So that means someone else has your original handwritten page.”

 

“I wonder who…” began Sam, moving aside the stack of paper to get to the bottom few sheets that Kate had identified as being the carbon copies.  “It’s definitely my handwriting,” she muttered, turning on the desk light so she could read the faint blue print more easily.  “It seems to be a list of questions I wanted answered…” she continued, starting to read ‘her’ notes and questions that she didn’t remember writing.  “I wonder why I needed someone else to answer these questions…” Sam’s earlier nervousness at opening the parcel had gone, replaced instead by a curiosity to understand this little mystery.  “Oh, I see….”

 

“See what?”

 

“Why I couldn’t answer the questions myself at the time….” Sam passed the paper to Kate for her to look at.  “More your area than mine I think.”

 

“My area?” asked Kate, fumbling for her reading glasses once more.

 

“Biology.  Well, cellular behaviours under certain conditions…” Sam chewed her lip thoughtfully, waiting for Kate to read the questions. “Actually, it would probably need the two of us, or at least an astrophysicist giving you some help, at least with the assumptions I’ve set...”  Expecting Kate to comment, Sam was surprised when Kate’s brow furrowed and her frown deepened as she moved on to read the second page.  “But I wasn’t expecting you to solve them tonight Kate…”  joked Sam, experience having finally taught her that the Universe did occasionally oblige by not requiring everything to be solved in an instant.  “Kate?”

 

“Mmm?”  Distracted, Kate looked up, almost as if to only just notice that Sam was there.  “Oh, yes.  Quite.”  Glancing back at the papers again, she stood up, taking her glasses off as she did so.  “Can I borrow this please tonight?”

 

“Now?”  Sam was about to ask what she’d be able to do with it given Kate wouldn’t be able to understand all of the assumptions she’d set out without an astrophysicist and, if she was honest, a few other physicists and chemists too, based on how specialised most of her fellow astrophysicists were, when she remembered who else was staying in the guest room Kate was staying in.  “Sure...” Osgood, from what Sam could remember from the PhD thesis proposal she’d looked at more than a decade ago, was all that Kate would need to understand even Sam’s most complex assumptions.

 

“Thanks.”  Kate glanced back at the stack of paper that was clearly Sam’s own asked and answered questions about the Tardis.  “Good night Sam, thank you.”

  
Sam was about to ask Kate what she was being thanked for, but the British woman was gone… leaving her water glasses behind on the bookcase.


	24. Blanket Apologies

“Vastra!”  Cross, Jenny sat up abruptly in bed and glared at where her wife was, knowing that although she couldn’t see Vastra in the darkness, the Silurian was perfectly able to see her.

 

“Yes dearest?”

 

“Don’t you ‘yes dearest’ me you daft bloody lizard.”  Folding her arms across her chest, Jenny waited for Vastra’s response, not impressed.

 

“I’m sorry…” Confused, Vastra considered what she knew about their current situation, trying to work out what might be causing her wife’s temper.  “Why are you over there?” she asked finally, unable to identify anything that might explain her current telling off so focussing instead on attempting to solve another mystery: why was Jenny out of reach?

 

“Cos you pushed me!” Jenny turned to the bedside table and concentrated on turning on the lamp - this electric light was brighter than their gas lamps and candles at home but the switches were fiddly and she was glad that Osgood had insisted on making sure she knew how to turn the lamp on while there was still light to see it.

 

“I did…” Vastra was about to finish her rejection of her wife’s theory, only get a flash of memory of what apes would call her dream, assuming she had actually been asleep.  “I was asleep?” Thoughtful, she followed her wife’s example and eased herself into more of a sitting position, only to quickly rearrange the bed linens so her bare shoulders were covered and protected from the lightest of air currents that passed across the bed.  

 

“Well you weren’t awake,” grumbled Jenny, still not prepared to forgive Vastra for shoving Jenny so hard she’d almost fallen out of the bed, although her anger was starting to dissipate as she began to realise that her wife might be as confused by it all as she was.  “But you were sort of singin’...”  Jenny frowned as she tried to work out whether she could demonstrate.  “Weird song, clicks instead of words.”  And some rather aggressive arm movements, but she’d come back to those later.

 

“I see.”  Embarrassed, and not quite sure how to explain what she now knew must have happened, Vastra absently rubbed her crown ridges with the hand that had presumably done all the shoving while she gently tested her other, strained shoulder, relieved to feel it already moving better.  “I am sorry dearest…” Vastra looked at Jenny finally, her expression troubled.  “Did I harm you at all?” Immediately after asking the question, Vastra’s tongue flicked out, relieved when she failed to detect any scent or taste of ape blood in the air, air that tasted strange yet familiar as, despite them being in a different century and a different country, her wife was still immediately recognisable.

 

“Banged my shoulder on the table and ruined a nice dream…” Jenny’s grumbling was increasingly half-hearted and giving way to concern as she began to realise that whatever had happened was not only an accident but was also giving Vastra something to think about.  “What ‘appened?” As she asked, she shuffled back across the bed so she was sat nearer to where she’d started her rest, only a couple of inches from her wife.

 

“I remember lying down and feeling the heat on my scales….” Vastra reached out and took Jenny’s hand in her own, not liking how far away her wife was suddenly feeling.  “It was…” Vastra searched her memories for a way to explain what she had felt.  “A feeling I have not felt since before the hibernation.”  She felt Jenny’s hand tense and slightly pull away from her, making her realise that despite her care she’d still managed to hurt her wife with her words.  “My sisters and I, we would occasionally be granted time at the Stones…” Pulling gently on Jenny’s hand, Vastra managed to communicate to Jenny that she wanted to lie down again while she continued her explanation, and she wanted very much for Jenny to lay with her.  Much to her relief, Jenny seemed to have forgiven her enough to understand and agree to the plan, and there was a brief pause while pillows were moved and bed linens rearranged so that they were comfortable once more, Jenny’s head using Vastra’s unstrained shoulder as a pillow, her body tucked against the Silurian’s scaled side.  “Many private homes had basking stones in their gardens, smooth stones that the sun’s light warmed until it would be too hot for an ape to touch.”

 

“Not even with gloves?” asked Jenny, partly because she felt the need to defend her species even if only a little bit, but mainly to show she was listening and paying attention to her wife’s story no matter how strange it seemed to be talking about it now.

 

“Gloves would defeat the purpose…”  Vastra lightly stroked her hand up and down Jenny’s bare upper arm as she stretched and kissed her wife’s hair, the tenderness of her actions softening the bluntness of what she was about to say.  “Basking stones were one of the ways we were permitted to remember our connection with our ancestors, before we lost our tails and walked tall… before we covered our scales with clothes.”

 

“You go on these stones naked?” asked Jenny, Vastra’s final point distracting her from her first observation, which was that Silurians hadn’t totally lost their tails...she was rather attached to Vastra’s little ‘tail’ that was a stumpy little protrusion at the base of her spine.  However, she could understand that compared to the long tails on the lizards they’d seen at Reptile House when they had visited the Zoological Society a few years ago, it was probably not really considered to be a ‘proper’ tail.

 

“Yes, which is why they were generally only in the gardens of private homes.  It is...an intimate experience, feeling the warmth of the sun that deeply in all your scales….” 

 

“But you said you did it with your Sisters…” Jenny wasn’t sure what to think if Vastra was going to tell her that this basking thing was something she’d done with a group of Silurians.

 

“Basking Stones help us attain the necessary focus to connect…” Vastra could feel Jenny’s struggle as she tried to stay quiet to hear Vastra’s explanation when everything Vastra said prompted further questions.  “Do you remember the ‘conference call’ we had with River Song and Clara?”

 

“Not likely to forget it!”  For a moment there was a tense silence between them as, despite their best efforts, their thoughts drifted from the ‘conference call’ to what happened after it, although Jenny quickly pushed those unhelpful memories aside and returned to consider Vastra’s original point.  “Strax thought Professor Song was the one with the big head… but he’s learnt about hair now, mostly.”

 

“Precisely.”  Vastra paused to once more kiss her wife’s head, relishing the feel of the soft, silky hair on her scales.  “Basking takes us to that same place, which is why it is not undertaken in a public environment.  But the connection between mates that touches deep and intimately within you can be shared by a warrior sisterhood as something that is… deep and powerful but not…” Vastra was struggling for the right ape word to explain what she meant.

 

“Romantic?”  Not that Vastra needed to have worried about finding the word of course, as her wonderful wife had worked out what she meant.

 

“Yes.  My sisters and I, we would occasionally be permitted to go to the Stones at the Academy, to return to that space where we were warriors of one mind, able to see into each others hearts.”

 

“An’ this electric blanket reminded you of that?” asked Jenny finally, when it was clear that Vastra didn’t have anything else she wanted to say.

 

“It was what I was thinking about as I…”

 

“As you what?” Concerned, having felt Vastra tense under her, Jenny pushed herself up so she could look at her wife properly.  “As you what love?”

 

“As I joined my Sisters on the Stones….”

 

* * *

  
  
  


“Sam?”

 

“Sorry Janet, it’s Kate…” she paused at the slightly ajar door through which she’d heard Janet’s call, fingertips resting lightly against the glossy paint.  “Can I come in?”

 

“Please!” Janet put aside her book, resting her reading glasses in her lap and studied the UNIT leader, inwardly amused that despite having permission to ‘come in’, Kate was actually standing in the bedroom doorway, so only her toes and nose were really ‘in’ the bedroom.  “Have you got everything you need?” she asked, sensing that Kate would cope better with her in hostess mode rather than concerned doctor mode.

 

“Yes thank you…” Kate stopped herself from trying to put her hands in her pockets just in time to remember she’d pour water down herself if she did so, only to realise she’d left the glasses in the study and had instead brought the papers.  “Sorry…” she smiled tiredly at Janet, “long day or rather, long two days…” she smothered a yawn, just.  “Sam’s in the study, with the glasses of water I forgot about.”

 

“Thanks, and you’ve already got water glasses in your room.”  Janet didn’t need to tell Kate that she’d go and prompt the blonde to come upstairs to bed - Kate had been a guest of theirs often enough to know that Sam was easily distracted by work when she should otherwise be in bed.  “Everything ok?”

 

“I feel I should be the one asking you that…” observed Kate dryly, putting her hand that wasn’t holding the papers she’d borrowed from Sam in her trouser pocket as she leaned against the doorframe.

 

“Why?”  Janet was tempted to point out she wasn’t the one who had been up for almost 48 hours, had flown 10 hours non-stop at a moment’s notice straight into a command situation on someone else’s turf when, for anyone else with Kate’s history (such as she knew it, and Janet knew she merely knew the partially declassified version  - it was one thing to have enough security clearance to know why Kate had a private jet permanently at her disposal, but it wasn’t enough to understand everything), such a flight would have been bookended with counselling and down-time, nevermind whatever Kate might have been intending to do with her Friday and weekend.  But she didn’t.

 

“We’ve rather imposed… not to mention our table manners.”

 

“Strax enjoyed his dinner and compared to Marines at a cook out you were fine,” joked Janet.  “And your son was very good at the washing up.”

 

“He’s good at lightbulbs too, but hopeless at weeding.  Not bad at bridge when he concentrates...”

 

“Kate?” interrupted Janet gently, slipping out of bed and walking towards the very tired woman who was starting to do her own form of rambling.

 

“Mmm?”  Kate realised she was rambling and stopped, smiling sheepishly at Janet by way of apology.

 

“Osgood’s waiting for you.”  If Kate had been here on her own, Janet would have probably considered suggesting some medication to help the over-tired blonde rest, but based on what she’d seen in the infirmary earlier, she was confident that Osgood would have the necessary calming effect on Kate and that rest could be achieved without resorting to drugs.

 

“Sorry…” Kate pushed herself away from the doorframe, preparing to walk to the guest bedroom she and Osgood were staying in, which was at the far end of the landing, beyond Vastra and Jenny’s room.  “She’s just opened the packet,” she added, finally delivering her originally intended message.

 

“Thanks for the warning…” Janet paused in the doorway, watching to make sure Kate actually made it to her bedroom and Osgood’s care.   “Sleep well.”

 

“And you, good night Janet,” and, with a final tired smile, Kate disappeared into the bedroom she and Osgood were staying in, leaving Janet alone on the landing.

 

* * *

  
  


“Your Sisters?”  Jenny wasn’t really sure what to say to that, although she was tempted to start with a ‘daft lizard’ if Vastra didn’t stop looking so worried soon.  “What did they want?”  Because, now she thought about it, rarely did someone from another Time pop by in your not-exactly-dreams to say hello and offer their secret Jam recipe, instead generally wanting you to leap into danger with them, swords at the ready.  Which reminded her, before they went back home, she had promised to give Janet her jam recipe….and show her how to get the cherries distributed evenly through her cherry and almond cake.

 

“They were as surprised to find me as I was to find them…” began Vastra, trying to piece the memory together.  “Oh.”

 

“Oh?”  Jenny counted silently to 10.  ‘Oh’ wasn’t good.

 

“They looked inside my heart and saw the bond with them…”

 

“That’s a good thing?” Jenny wasn’t entirely sure what the correct response was since every time she’d been on a ‘conference call’ they’d shared tea with their friends, not looked inside each other.

 

“It proved to them I was their Sister….” Vastra trailed off and Jenny felt her wife start to squeeze her tighter. 

 

“But?”

 

“But they saw my heart was bound with ties to another which created conflict.” Hearing this, Jenny tensed, not liking the idea of there being conflict involving Vastra to which she was not invited, with swords obviously.  “No need to growl Jenny dearest…” chuckled Vastra when she realised what her wife was doing.  “What my Sisters saw was my bond with you, my precious love…” Vastra waited until she felt Jenny relax and stopped growling, before quietly adding, “...which is when I think I punched you.”

 

“It wasn’t a punch…not exactly.  Wait.”  Jenny pushed herself up again, wanting to watch Vastra’s reactions as she asked this next question.  “You ‘it me.  Why?”

 

“As a Warrior, my own permitted bond was with my Sisters.  To look into my heart and see a bond with another…. I was expected to break the bond…”

 

“So you ‘it me.”

 

“For which I am truly sorry my love…”  Vastra looked truly distraught at the idea she’d been trying to break herself away from her wife.  “They could never succeed.”

 

“I know,” agreed Jenny, forgiving her wife immediately, knowing it wasn’t fair to judge her for how she behaved in what could only be described as unusual circumstances. “They didn’t get very far.”

 

“How did you know?” asked Vastra curiously, marvelling once again at how wonderful Jenny was, and how fortunate Vastra was to be loved by this wonderful ape, not needing to confirm to Jenny that she was absolutely right.

 

“I only whispered your name, didn’t even get to talking never mind shouting.  Guess my bond’s alright then.”

 

“More than alright my love…” agreed Vastra, shifting slightly on the bed so that it was easier for Jenny to once again settle against her, clearly preparing to go back to sleep now the mystery of her rude awakening had been resolved, although for Vastra it wasn’t quite as straightforward.

 

“Vastra?”

 

“Yes my love?”

 

“Has it happened before?”

 

“Has what happened before?”

 

“Having a conference call with your Sisters like that.”

 

“No… I did not believe such things were possible.”

 

“Do you want to turn the blanket off?” asked Jenny, enjoying being able to feel her wife’s scales and not have to imagine them through the layers of nightgown that Vastra would more usually be wearing to keep warm.  However, as much as she enjoyed the fact that the combination of the electric blanket and the duvet meant they could lie together practically naked, if Vastra was going to have weird dreams she’d remake the bed without the blanket and find some thicker nightclothes for them both.

 

“No thank you.”  Vastra snuggled against the mattress and Jenny, savouring the warmth that was surrounding her, only to flick her tongue out, testing something.

 

“But I don’t want you ‘itting me....”

 

“It will not happen again my love,” promised Vastra, her curiosity satisfied and sleep now seeming ideal.  “For two reasons…”

 

“Two?”

 

“I will not let it, for I shall dream of basking with my love…”

 

“That’s a good reason…” agreed Jenny sleepily, struggling to stay awake now she was not only warm and comfortable but also properly relaxed again now the surprise and confusion associated with her rather rude awakening had been mostly understood.  “But you said two reasons…”

 

“The draught has passed.”  Vastra flicked her tongue out one final time, checking the full width of their room and confirming that once again, unlike when she’d been roused by Jenny calling her name, the air was perfectly still.

 

“Draught? What dra…”  Too tired, warm and comfortable to stay awake, Jenny nodded off mid question.  Smiling, Vastra made good use of her tongue once more by flicking off the bedside light, bringing darkness back to the room once more, although it was a darkness that held no mystery or secrets to someone with Silurian vision.

  
“The Time Breeze my love….” she whispered, easing her now sleeping wife more closely against her side, wishing she could hold her with both arms but knowing her strained shoulder needed just a little more time to heal, and heal it must, especially now the Time Winds were starting to swirl….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the first Vastra/Jenny stories I read involved Jenny building a warm hearth for Vastra - it was closely followed by another story that had Vastra 'basking' on warm stones in their garden. I can remember neither of the story titles or authors, but thank you to their creators for planting the seed of how the lizard 'heritage' might be retained or incorporated into Silurian life.
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always.


	25. Differently Brilliant and Differently Alien

Folding the hand towel and returning it neatly to the towel rail, Osgood gave the bathroom one final surveying look, satisfying herself that she was leaving it as she would wish others to find it, exactly like they’d had to do when visiting family during school holidays.  Picking up her neatly packed toiletries bag, she opened the bathroom door and, seeing the landing light was still on, turned off the bathroom light and pulled the door almost closed, instinctively leaving it slightly ajar so the next user could tell from afar it was unoccupied.  Walking down the landing, past the closed door of Vastra and Jenny’s room, Osgood silently wished them a ‘good night’ and hoped that Jenny’s crash course in 21st century soft furnishings had boosted her confidence sufficiently to actually be able to have a comfortable night’s rest.

 

Taking a moment to check that the towel she’d wrapped around her wet hair was still securely in place, Osgood tapped gently on the partly open door to the bedroom she and Kate were staying in, not really expecting Kate to be less than decent with the door ajar, before pushing it open just wide enough to slip through.  Shutting the door quietly behind her, Osgood turned round and was surprised to see Kate sat on the corner of the bed, apparently lost in thought.

 

“Hello.”  Thinking that Kate had sat down one time too many, and that the fatigue from their mammothly long day had finally caught up on the blonde, Osgood headed for the dresser by the window and put her toiletry bag down while she waited for Kate to ‘wake up’ and notice her return.

 

“I’m sorry…”  Kate’s voice was quiet and hoarse, the exhaustion she’d been fighting for hours no longer hidden as finally, in their temporary sanctuary, she could let go of Greyhound One.  “So sorry…” she repeated as she gave in to the emotions she’d been holding and, her elbows resting on her thighs, she slumped forwards, the piece of paper she’d been holding floating to the floor.

 

“What for?”  Confused, Osgood abandoned what she’d been about to do by way of completing her bedtime preparations and headed for Kate.  Concerned as to what had caused Kate to feel that she needed to apologise, and that she was looking so defeated and broken, Osgood stood right in front of Kate and wrapped her arms around her lover’s slumped shoulders.  Shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, Osgood started combing her fingers through Kate’s hair, tracing swirling patterns through the strands and down her lover’s neck, lightly stroking and scratching as she gently set about coaxing Kate out of her self-created shell.  

 

Osgood’s natural instinct in these moments was to be quiet and calmly wait for enough information to become available about whatever the situation was so that she could work out what was happening and then act thoughtfully.  This, in turn, fitted rather well with Kate who, in contrast to how she was the rest of the time, in moments like this tended to lapse into thoughtful silences as she agonised over everything she thought she needed to say.  Somehow though, they fitted together and complemented each other even in these moments of potential disharmony and collision.  Osgood was comfortable being silent but her gentle touches reminded Kate she wasn’t abandoned and left alone, just as Kate wasn’t throwing around words for the sake of saying things and rushing to a resolution for the sake of being ‘fixed’, but instead was able to take the time to work through exactly what she wanted to acknowledge and redo if she could or ask if they could do it differently in the future.  

 

Gradually, Osgood felt the positive effect that her presence was having for her girlfriend, as Kate’s head began to lift and her shoulder and neck muscles moved.  The fabric of her pyjama top tickled her slightly when it shifted under Kate’s head as the blonde found the energy to sit up a little more before heavy arms lightened enough to rise and wrap around Osgood’s legs.  Kate still might not really feel that she deserved Osgood’s company, but she absolutely knew she needed it, and was going to literally cling on to it with both hands while her thoughts caught up.

 

“I’m sorry…” repeated Kate, her voice now muffled by Osgood’s pyjama top.  “You’re far too tolerant of me.”

 

“You’re thinking for me again,” chided Osgood gently, reasonably confident that Kate was trying to shoulder responsibility for some perceived horror or affront that Osgood either hadn’t noticed or wasn’t overly fazed by.  “What have you done that I’m tolerating?”  No matter how certain she might be that she hadn’t noticed anything she thought Kate needed to apologise for in the recent past, she needed Kate to tell her what she was thinking otherwise it would weigh Kate down and then there really would be something creating an issue.   She’d made that mistake a couple of times early on in their relationship and it wasn’t something Osgood wanted to experience again.  Waiting for Kate to answer, Osgood tilted her head slightly so that she could see her girlfriend a little more clearly through her glasses.  Unfortunately, she’d forgotten that she still had her hair wrapped in a towel and, as she angled her head, the towel unwound and landed with a gentle thump on Kate.

 

“What…” Startled by the towel landing on her, Kate let go of Osgood in a reflex reaction that also saw her find the energy to sit up straight as she tried to shake herself free of the towel.

 

“Oops.”  Glasses knocked askew, Osgood pulled the towel away from Kate’s shoulders and dropped it on the floor besides them, covering the unnoticed piece of fallen paper.  “Sorry…” Suddenly needing three hands, Osgood reluctantly realised she needed to let go of Kate in order to straighten her glasses and clear her damp hair back from in front of her face, ideally without tangling it.  “Towel fell off,” she added, in case Kate hadn’t been able to work out what had happened herself.  “You ok?”

 

“Fine…” Kate reached up and lifted the strands of damp hair away from Osgood’s nose, tucking them behind an ear that was now in reach from her seated position because Osgood was leaning forwards, studying her with concern.  With the shock of the towel drop only fleeting, she returned to her thoughts on Osgood’s behalf.  “I’m sorry I didn’t…” Sighing, she tried again.  “Yesterday, this morning…” she caught her lip in her teeth and concentrated on smoothing out the wrinkles in Osgood’s pyjama shirt for a moment while she tried to work out when it was she wanted to apologise for.  “What I mean is…” Looking up at Osgood whose hair was now tucked mostly away from anywhere it could tangle with her glasses, Kate finally found the words she wanted.  “When the Doctor rang, I went all…” she blushed with embarrassment at what she was about to say, “...’Greyhound One’ on you.”

 

“Nothing wrong with that.”  Osgood’s expression was starting to show a hint of a frown as she remembered the phone call, at least now understanding why Kate had struggled with whether she was talking about yesterday or today as, with the time zone change and the lack of sleep, it really was debatable as to when Thursday had turned into Friday, although it was now almost certainly Saturday.  “You  _ are _ Greyhound One.”  She looked thoughtfully at Kate, idly rearranging a few stray strands of blonde hair that were sticking out as she tried to remember what had happened since she’d interrupted Kate’s lunch.  

 

After a minute or so of careful thinking she could remember the mad dash to get to the plane as fast as practical whilst simultaneously liaising with all the various departments at the Tower, Geneva and Whitehall on all things practical.  Feeling momentarily proud that she’d even remembered to text Gordy and ask him to go and claim as much of their grocery delivery as he wanted in exchange for putting away the non-perishables and cleaning out the fridge, Osgood found that she not only couldn’t remember mentioning that to Kate, she also wasn’t remembering anything particularly remarkable in a concerning sort of way about her lover’s behaviour.  It had been a logistical nightmare that they’d ultimately sailed through with comparative ease, although they had needed most of the nine and a bit hour flight and on-plane wifi to finish everything.  For one brief moment she allowed herself to become distracted with thinking about how Kate would have managed if the Doctor had called during the year when she...away, but as fast as that thought came, she pushed it away, glad to remain in the present, the here and now where they both were, together.  “And you’re my silly fool…” she added, lightly tapping Kate on the nose with affection, pleased to see the beginnings of a tentative smile forming on Kate’s lips, even if it was mainly a reflex response at the moment.   “Idiotic thing.” As much as Osgood wanted to stay standing exactly where she was until she’d sorted through everything that was pressing down on Kate, she was becoming conscious of damp patches forming on her pyjama top from where the ends of her hair were settling.  “You’re forgiven.”

 

“But…”  It was Kate’s turn to be confused, and a little frustrated: why was Osgood letting her off just like that?  Why wasn’t she being prodded into explaining herself?  Why didn’t Osgood care?

 

“You’re forgiven now because you were forgiven then.”  As she spoke, Osgood attempted to try and shake some damp tendrils of hair away from her neck.  “Do you want to go back to London by boat?”

 

“Pardon?”  The seemingly random change of topic completely threw an already off-balance and muddled Kate.

 

“Instead of the plane…” Osgood idly played with some strands of Kate’s hair that were refusing to settle away from Kate’s face.  “We could go home by boat, if you want?”  Osgood felt her chest tightening as her own memories of that horrific day when she’d gone from the emotional high of having her plan to detain Missy work, to the anger at being quite literally elbowed off Boat One by her ‘sister’.  She had still been angrily grumbling at her ‘sister’ through their link hours later when suddenly, it had all gone quiet, too quiet, the quiet she hadn’t had since the last time she’d had to interrupt Kate’s lunch with a call from the Doctor.  And that was before she then heard the news about Kate and her freefall experience….

 

Necessity had forced her to get on planes after that day, to travel around the world, doing her sister’s work in keeping the Zygon Community together but it hadn’t been easy and, after being rescued by the Doctor it hadn’t exactly made her more kindly disposed towards aeroplanes… although doing a parachute jump had been kind of cool and weirdly, hadn’t triggered her asthma, unlike all this thinking about planes…. Kate wasn’t the only one to now have a rather reluctant relationship with aircraft.

 

“You get seasick…” reminded Kate softly, standing up and gently turning her lover round so she could hold her loosely in a hug from behind, her chin resting on Osgood’s shoulder, understanding all to clearly where her thoughts had drifted.  “Deep breath Os…” Kate concentrated on keeping her breathing steady and even, knowing that it helped Os regain her own control.  “Nice and steady…” She shifted her head slightly, so she could brush her lips against Os’s jaw, grounding them both, trying to keep both of their thoughts in the present and not in the past.  “Better?” she asked after a few more steady inhales and exhales, judging that the immediate onslaught of wheezing had probably passed.

 

“Mmm,” Osgood took another couple of test breaths, focussing on her own breathing rather than Kate’s.  “Yes.”  She ran her hands over Kate’s, which were still resting loosely around her waist and affectionately squeezed them.  “Thanks…”

 

“Let’s worry about how we get home when this is all over?” suggested Kate, letting go of Osgood so that she could turn around and they could stand, finally able to look at each other without straining or cricking their necks.  “Who knows, we might get Sam to ‘ring’ us back to London…” Kate tried to remember what else she knew about the Goa’uld matter transporters that she’d seen a demonstration of the last time she’d visited the Base, knowing that Osgood hadn’t seen them in action.  “Or the Tardis…”

 

“Ring?”

 

“Matter Transporters from Sam’s aliens…” Kate smiled ruefully as she did a quick mental inventory of everything they’d come across at UNIT to see if there was anything she could suggest as comparable but not succeeding.  “They’re a bit different to ours.”  

 

“Of course.”  Osgood was thoughtful for a moment, pleased that Kate appeared to be recovering some of her equilibrium but wanting to be extra clear about something that Kate’s attempted apology had reminded her of.  “We both got things wrong, then.”  She waved her hand, as if there was a box in the corner of the room that she could point that represented ‘then’, not that she needed to, as Kate which day she was talking about.  “And later…” Another gesture, this time towards the wardrobe that might be representing ‘later’.  “When I was away…” Osgood swallowed thickly and adjusted her glasses, reminding herself that they were here, now, together, but the weight of the past was still there, in the shadows.  “I could have been…”

 

“Differently brilliant,” declared Kate firmly, knowing what Osgood was thinking and not countenancing it.  “You did brilliantly, coping with everything that happened after she’d had her  _ fun. _ ”  It was fair to say that Missy was not yet back on UNIT’s Christmas Card list, and that it would take the freezing over of several circles of Hell before Kate was prepared to even discuss it.  And as for what came later, with Bonnie… “ _ We  _ did brilliantly,” continued Kate quietly, reaching up and cupping Osgood’s cheek with her hand, without dislodging Os’s glasses.  “I love you.”  She took a small step forwards, closing the last little space between them, “I love you so very much Os…”

 

* * *

  
  


“Sam?”

 

“Hi…”  Sheepish, Sam looked up from the pile of notes she’d sent herself, not needing to know what time it was as, whatever time it was,  it was obviously too late if it had brought Janet downstairs looking for her.  “I opened it.”

 

“Kate said.”  Janet spotted the abandoned water glasses on the bookshelf and picked them up, not fussed about taking them to the kitchen, but knowing if she didn’t move them to the desk while she remembered, she could well not find them again for months.  “I heard her on the stairs and thought she was you.”

 

“Sorry…”  Sam picked up a leaflet about a conference that had fallen out of one of her journals and used it to mark her place in the pile of papers she’d sent herself.  Years ago she would have carried on reading through the night and probably forgone sleep until at least Tuesday, but then years ago she hadn’t been able introduce Janet as her wife.  In some aspects of her life, she was certainly wiser as well as being older.  “I’m not sure why I’m reading it now.”

 

“Oh?”  Surprised, Janet concentrated on not spilling the water over something important as she tried to find space on her desk so she’d notice the glasses again tomorrow.  Or Sunday, depending on what their plans turned into once all her houseguests were awake.

 

“I mean, not now I’ve read enough to know it’s my work…”  Sam stood up and stretched, hoping Janet hadn’t heard the cracks and pops her back had made, although judging by the look she’d just received she decided she shouldn’t attempt another stretch.

 

“Wasn’t your handwriting a clue?” Janet hoped she managed to conceal her amusement when it became clear Sam was not going to stretch again, no doubt because she was concerned Janet had heard her back pop.  Janet hadn’t actually heard anything and, if Sam hadn’t been trying so hard to look ‘innocent’ and resist stretching again, she wouldn’t have guessed that Sam had enjoyed a back popping stretch.

 

“That I’d written it down? Yes.”  Sam scrubbed her fingers through her hair, unknowingly giving Janet an opportunity to give in to her amusement for a moment before once more, schooling her features.  “But I could have been copying out stuff I thought or was told would be useful.”  She looked down at the papers on the desk and, after a moment’s careful searching, found what she was looking for on the fourth page of notes.  “But stuff like this?”  She passed the piece of paper across to Janet who obediently skimmed it, not really understanding what she was looking at, but nevertheless recognising that some of the annotations on the hand drawn diagrams looked familiar, and not just because she recognised the handwriting. 

 

“Is that Goa’uld?” Janet passed the piece of paper back to Sam, pointing at one of the notations, curiosity trumping her confusion.

 

“Yeah, well sort of.”  Sam looked at the paper for a moment, studying what she’d scribbled years earlier and light years away before putting it back in it the stack.  “It’s a sort of Goa’uld shorthand I guess, that I made up when we started on the Gate and then missions.”  She looked at Janet, seeing her wife starting to understand what she meant.  “It’s not just my writing, it’s my thinking.”  She stepped out from the desk, pushing the chair back under the table as she moved before picking up the heap of papers and moving to where they had a small wall safe for confidential materials.  It was one thing for papers to be left lying around on Sam or Kate’s desks, deep underground in classified highly-secure bases, but Sam felt happier sleeping with it safely stored somewhere less open than her desk at home.  “I’m not sure what I can learn from it before Tuesday, as clearly I was expecting to have something to…” Janet’s initial thought was that Sam had lapsed into silence while she concentrated on storing the papers, but since that was something the General could do with her eyes closed and half asleep, she realised that Sam was actually struggling to work out what to say.

 

“Doohickey?” suggested Janet, knowing Sam would never use the word herself but after years of working with Jack O’Neill, it had become a convenient shorthand that he and latterly others had found useful when needing to cover everything from ‘look cautiously at alien technology from a hopefully safe distance’ via ‘tell us if it’s going to explode’ and all the way through to ‘stop it destroying the planet in the next ten seconds’.  Personally, Janet was hoping out of professional courtesy if nothing else, Kate might have mentioned something before the second bottle of wine if whatever was happening on Tuesday was at the planet destroying end of the doohickey spectrum.  That she hadn’t suggested it was probably going to be merely toxic or explosive at worse, rather than annihilating.  Probably.  Hopefully.

 

“Yeah.”  Grinning, Sam picked up the brass bookend she’d seemingly inherited from George Hammond and passed it to Janet.

 

“Am I supposed to throw this at you?” Although she had no intention of doing that, being rather attached to both her wife’s skull and the glass vase on the far side of the room which is probably where she’d end up throwing this ‘thing’, Janet was rather hoping Sam would get to her point sooner rather than later as her toes getting cold.

 

“I think that would upset Osgood.”  Sam chewed on her lip for a moment, wondering if by being able to look at it from a distance she could work out how it might operate.

 

“What’s Osgood got to do with George’s bookend?” Despite the late hour and her very real desire to be under the comforter with her wife and hot water bottle, potentially not even in that order of preference, Janet was sufficiently intrigued by this latest mystery to reconsider the neat wooden and brass object.

 

“It’s not a bookend, and it’s not Uncle George’s…”  Sam took it back when Janet held it out to her and placed it on the desk.  “Apparently it’s a telex receiver, you know, ticker tape?”  Sam turned out the desk lamp, looking forward to her bed now she was thinking about it.

 

“Do we still use ticker tape?”  Janet gave the telex receiver one final look before turning and heading back to the hall with Sam, “wait, Kate’s lot use ticker tape still?”

 

“Yup.  That’s for ‘tango’ messages apparently…” Sam turned out the study light and shut the door.  “You know that wooden cabinet in the guard post?” she asked, glancing around the hall to check there was nothing else she needed to check or secure, knowing that Janet was doing exactly the same next to her.

 

“In the corner...looks like it should be on Antiques Roadshow.  What’s it got to do with this?”

 

“Apparently it’s a Walrus Receiver, and we were sent two signals for Kate on it today.”  Satisfied that everything was in order, Sam gestured for Janet to lead the way, experience telling them that while in the movies they should walk upstairs hand in hand, in practice it was safer to just concentrate on getting from A to B.  “Same network.”

 

“And Osgood?”  Although, now she thought about it, given what Osgood had mentioned earlier on the base about quills and wax seals, Janet thought she might be able to guess.  “Does she have the transmitting module in her backpack?”

 

“Dunno, didn’t ask.”  It took Sam another two steps to realise Janet hadn’t been entirely sincere in her question.  “Oh, you were joking.”  She shrugged in response to the eye rolling mock glare Janet threw her.  “You’re probably onto something though, but Kate’s going to ask her to service them, so they’re working before Tuesday I guess.”

 

“Their aliens use ticker tape?”  Janet wasn’t sure why that felt like was the step too far for today, given she had a Sontaran in the loft and a Silurian in the spare bedroom (admittedly the spare bedroom that Teal’c usually stayed in, so it wasn’t exactly alien having, well, an alien in it), but still… “Definitely a bit different to ours...” she muttered, resuming her ascent up the stairs to the landing and their room.

 

“What are?”  Sam hadn’t been paying attention and anyway, had missed Janet’s inner monologue.

 

“Kate’s aliens.  Different, to ours.”

 

“Yeah.”  Pausing on the top step, Sam rubbed the back of her neck for a moment, remembering the various alien races both friendly and hostile that she’d met in her career, including an energetic man with a taste for Jelly Beans and bow ties.  “Different to ours…” she agreed, switching off the landing light and following Janet into their bedroom, trying to shift her thoughts towards sleep, and away from all things alien…

 

So why was she thinking about swimming pools?

 

And what did a library have to do with it?

 


	26. Old Friends, New Friends and Friends Not Yet Made

“Master?”  Moving through the rooms of the Tardis, K9 was trying to find the Doctor.  “Master?”

 

“Hello!”  The Doctor appeared from wherever it was he had been with such momentum and energy he almost shot straight across the corridor and would have fallen through the door into the next room had the Tardis not obligingly ensured that particular door was locked.  Therefore, he merely landed in a tangled heap of legs, arms and scarf.

 

“Master?”  Sudden darkness was not part of the series of events K9 had calculated as being a probability when he had set off in search of the Doctor.  “Unexpected outcome.”  He set about scanning the area, his ‘tail’ moving as he collected data.  “Scanning complete.  Analysing.”

 

“What for?” Scrambling to his feet, the Doctor reached down and plucked his hat from where it had landed on K9’s head.

 

“Master!”  The sudden restoration of light was most welcome, but did mean K9 now had a new ‘unexpected outcome’ to analyse, and before the satisfactory resolution of the previous one too.

 

“You wanted me K9?”  He put his hat firmly on his head, only to then take it off again and look at it, as if he was expecting it to advise him as to why exactly he was wearing it indoors.  “And are you bored?”

 

“We have stopped Master.”

 

“Have we?”  The Doctor moved to the side of the corridor and put his hand against the wall as he looked at the ceiling.  “Yes, we have.”  He looked back at K9 who was busy thinking about something evidently.  “Why have we stopped?”  He looked from K9 to the ceiling again and then back at K9.  “Why were we going?”

 

“Going Master?”  K9 consulted his internal chronometer.  “But we have only just stopped.  Explain please Master?”

 

“Quite, K9.”  Ramming his hat firmly back on his head, the Doctor set off down the corridor with a surprising burst of speed.

 

“Coming Master…”  And, finding the corridor was not quite wide enough for him to turn around in, K9 continued in the opposite direction, knowing that the Tardis would help him return to the Control Room or wherever it was that his Master had gone to: she was understanding like that.

 

* * *

  


“Have you got a…” Before Kate could finish asking for it, Osgood was holding up the hair elastic she knew Kate needed.  “Thanks.”  Taking the band, Kate used it to secure the end of the loose plait she’d just tidied Osgood’s hair into and let it drop down against her lover’s neck.  “Ok?” she asked, prepared to do it again if it was too tight or uncomfortable.

 

“Thanks…” Osgood moved her head about to prove to Kate that she was genuinely comfortable and not just saying so.  “It’s good.”  Osgood reached up and rubbed Kate’s knee with affection, since it was the nearest bit easily in reach from where she was sat on the floor, with Kate sat on the bed.  “Thank you.”  Passing the hairbrush back up to Kate, Osgood was content to just stay where she was for a few moments, finding Kate’s knee quite a convenient headrest and the thought of getting up in order to get into bed rather too much like hard work.

 

“I’ve got better at it…” observed Kate ruefully, not in any rush to start moving herself.  “Had enough practice now.”  She’d been truly awful the first few times she’d tried to be helpful and save Osgood the contortions of having to plait her own hair on the occasions when she wanted to sleep with it ‘tidied’.  But with careful guidance from Osgood, who had been impressively patient with with her in spite of the various knotty tangles Kate had found herself in, she’d actually become reasonably reliable and efficient at it.  Not that Osgood really cared, having discovered fairly early on that, much to her surprise, she liked having her hair brushed and plaited by Kate no matter how tangled they got along the way… it was, she’d decided, a completely different experience to when her mother had done it for her each morning before primary school.

 

“Mmm…” Osgood leaned back, just about able to see Kate upside down if she tipped her head back far enough.  “We can’t sleep like this.”  Actually, Osgood probably could, especially if she were to stretch her legs out so she didn’t get pins and needles in her feet… and Kate’s lap was not a bad pillow…

 

“Someone might need to move then,” teased Kate, nudging her lover with her toes.  “Pass me the towel?” she added, tapping Os on the nose for good measure, just in case there was any doubt who needed to move first.

 

“The hot water’s really hot…” volunteered Osgood as she forced herself into first a more self-supported sitting position and then shifted onto her knees so she could reach the towel which had landed a couple of feet away when she’d pulled it away from Kate’s head earlier.  “But in a good way,” she added quickly as she turned back to look at Kate who had clearly found some energy from somewhere and had not only managed to stand up but also go to the dresser and grab her own toiletry bag.

 

“Thanks.”  Two steps more and Kate was stood by Osgood and had taken the towel off her.  “Won’t be long.”

 

It took a moment for Osgood to realise that, if she wasn’t careful, she was in danger of falling asleep sat in the middle of the carpet, which would not only be very rude to her hostesses who had gone to the trouble of furnishing this guest room with what she had to presume was a perfectly serviceable bed, but would also give her disgruntled lungs and a stiff back by morning.  And if those weren’t good enough reasons, Kate would presumably elect to sleep in the bed rather than join Osgood on the floor, and Osgood preferred sleeping with Kate.  Therefore, after a final ten seconds or so of blissful inactivity, she set about standing up, starting by turning around a bit so she could use the bed as a leverage point rather than rely solely on her right knee.

 

Well, it was a good theory… until she saw the piece of paper that Kate had dropped when the towel had landed on her.

 

“What is…” Osgood’s rhetorical question didn’t need to be finished, nevermind answered.  Automatically, she’d started to read what was on the piece of paper, recognising its content immediately, only for it to throw up two questions.

 

Whose handwriting was this?

 

What was it doing here?

 

* * *

  


“Master?”  Coming into the Control Room, K9 moved silently up to where the Doctor was studying the various outputs on the central console that were flashing and occasionally hitting the ones that weren’t.

 

“We have stopped.”

 

“Yes Master.”  If K9 could sigh, he would have done.  Not that it was his place to say, nor really could his circuits properly compute the probabilities, but had Master not listened?  That was why K9 had gone looking for him.

 

“Which means we were going.”

 

“Yes Master.”

 

“But now we have arrived.”

 

“Where Master?”

 

“Where?”  The Doctor consulted the flashing outputs and hit the non-flashing outputs.  “Why K9…” He took his hat off his head.  “We are HERE….” he accompanied this informative declaration with an expansive sweep of his arms that helped him spin around the central console and come to a stop on the same side as the one the Tardis had elected to install the front door.

 

“Here Master?”  Angling his head while he waited for his circuits to complete the analysis of all known systems and places to determine what the precise coordinates were for the place ‘Here’, K9 followed the route his Master had taken around the Control Room, at a slightly more sedate pace, although he did attempt to imitate the spinning with his ‘nose’ and ‘tail’.  “What is Here?” he asked as he arrived by the Doctor’s feet, having discovered that whatever it was, ‘Here’ was not a planet, star or people that his circuits could inform him about.

 

“Here is where we are…” explained the Doctor, only able to proceed with his explanation without interruption because K9 was the Mark II, with sarcasm not making it into the sub-routines until at least the Mark VII models.  “And now is the moment to be here.”  He rammed his hat down on his head once more, swung his scarf more securely around his neck and, with a glance down at K9, his eyes bright with excitement, added as an afterthought, “or will be.  On Tuesday…” And, on that rather cryptic note by even the Doctor’s standards, he flung the Tardis door open, and stepped out into the blackness.

 

“Master?”  Uncertain how to proceed, his desire to follow his Master in conflict with leaving the Tardis, his Master’s home, unprotected, K9 moved to the edge of the door and cautiously stuck his head out into the blackness.  “Master?”

 

* * *

  


“Os?”  As she pushed their temporary bedroom door open, Kate hoped Osgood wasn’t already asleep.  “Have you got…” Not initially catching sight of Osgood, Kate fully entered the bedroom and shut the door by leaning back against it while she sleepily spotted that Osgood wasn’t in bed, but was still sat on the floor.  “...my cufflinks still?”

 

“Mmm?”  Osgood looked up from the piece of paper she’d been staring at, automatically adjusting her glasses as she focussed on Kate and tried to remember what had just been said.  “Oh, yes.  They’re on the dresser, by my watch.”

 

“Thanks.”  Kate headed for the dresser to put her toiletry bag down and to pick up her pyjamas, only to stop when, despite her tiredness, she belatedly realised the significance of Osgood still sitting on the floor, holding a piece of greenish tinged white paper with faint blue handwriting on it.  “You found it.”  Putting her toiletry bag down next to Osgood’s watch and her silver greyhound cufflinks, Kate closed her eyes and winced, not meaning to have said that quite like that.  “I mean…”

 

“It was under the towel…”  Osgood stood up, still holding the piece of paper with a mixture of curious fascination and the desire to hold it at arms’ length like she was concerned it would spontaneously combust.  “You must have dropped it when the towel fell on you…”

 

Seeing Kate wasn’t moving from where she was stood by the dresser, and that she’d only got as far as unrolling one of her shirt sleeves, Osgood walked over to Kate.  Putting the piece of paper down next to their toiletries, Osgood started to unroll Kate’s other shirt sleeve, keeping an eye on her overall demeanour using the mirror that was sitting on top of the dresser.

 

“It…” Turning, not content with being able to only see Osgood’s reflection, Kate searched for something to say, but found herself speechless with a mixture of anger, fear and an exhaustion that wasn’t solely down to it being far too long since she’d slept.

 

“Silly fool.”  Abandoning her self-set mission to get Kate ready for bed, Osgood slipped her hands around the blonde’s waist and gently pulled her forwards so they were stood close together, foreheads touching.  “My idiotic thing,” she whispered, rubbing the tip of her nose against Kate’s until she felt the subtle shifting of Kate’s head that suggested she was smiling at the familiar ‘insult’.  “I don’t care about who asked the questions, I’m still grateful to them.”  Osgood took a moment to concentrate on breathing while she worked out what she wanted to say, what she wanted Kate to hear before they were both far too tired to cope with basic conversation nevermind weightier topics, and no matter what, she did not want another wheezing attack.  Fortunately, what she’d managed to say and do so far had succeeded in unfreezing Kate enough that Osgood felt arms slipping around her waist, enabling her to relax her grasp on Kate’s shirt from ‘as if her life depended on it’ to ‘not willingly letting you go’.

 

“It doesn’t change what I feel for you.”  Osgood wasn’t really sure what she was feeling about other people, but that was a secondary issue.  As much as she might love science and her job, she loved Kate Lethbridge Stewart more, and right now, that was what mattered more than anything else she could think of, although trying to get both of them to bed before they fell asleep on their feet was a close second.  So, deciding that actions probably spoke louder than words, she pulled at Kate’s shirt until it came free from the waistband of her trousers.  “We might not have met in quite the way we thought we did, but UNIT had nothing to do with us going to the pub….”  Relieved that Kate appeared to be listening and wasn’t trying to interrupt or argue, Osgood ploughed on both with her analysis but also with trying to get them both into bed so they could sleep, which meant letting go of Kate’s shirt for a moment.  “And they had nothing to do with us becoming friends…”  As she spoke, she unfastened the buttons of the pale blue shirt that Kate would have got rid of years ago if it hadn’t been one of Os’s favourites.

 

“Or cheese sandwiches?”

 

“Or cheese sandwiches,” agreed Osgood, feeling Kate hug her tightly, trapping her hands between them, the weight lifting from both of them now the this was out in the open between them.

 

“Sam doesn’t know,” said Kate finally when she found her voice again, not really sure how they’d managed to get through all the worry and emotion that she’d felt slam into her when she’d seen those bloody questions, but knowing it was Osgood who’d pulled them through.  She might be ‘Greyhound One’, the person who dragged UNIT kicking and screaming into the light to fight only when it needed to fight and to generally survive, but it was Osgood who held her together, who patiently picked up the pieces when she was shattered and broken and kept her whole until she was healed.  

 

“Sam…” Pushing the unfastened shirt off Kate’s shoulders, Osgood adjusted her glasses while she waited for Kate to get the hint and finish taking off her shirt, having rather lost her train of thought for anything outside of the two of them.  “Oh, Sam Carter.”  Momentarily confused, Osgood concentrated on catching the shirt before it fell to the floor and passing Kate her pyjama top.  “Standard UNIT issue, just like mine,” she reminded the blonde who was looking at the long sleeved dark grey t-shirt like it didn’t belong to her, which it didn’t.  “What has General Carter got to do with how we met?”  While she waited for Kate to explain, Osgood returned the favour that Kate often helped her with during her wheezy moments, and unfastened her lover’s bra for her, again catching the garment before it fell to the floor.

 

“She’s…” Kate’s voice was muffled as she pulled the crew necked t-shirt on over her head.  “The author of the questions it seems.”  Finding some reserves of energy from somewhere, Kate pushed her arms through the sleeves and, seemingly more alert and ‘present’ again, focussed on finishing putting on her pyjamas while Osgood read the questions that Sam Carter had asked once again.

 

“So this is her handwriting...” Osgood headed for the bed, turning on the bedside light on what would be ‘her’ side of the bed,  “and was in the packet we brought from the Black Archive?”

 

“Yes.  The top copy must have gone somewhere else.”  Kate, now dressed like Osgood in the dark grey long sleeved t-shirt and trousers that were UNIT standard issue ‘pyjamas’ (Max and Parker were similarly outfitted), pulled a brush through her hair before heading for her side of the bed, via the overhead light switch which was just by the door.  “That was made with carbon paper.”

 

“So that project we worked on...the one for the MOD about self-regenerating material…” Osgood put the piece of paper aside and concentrated on beating her pillows into her preferred shape.  “Was for UNIT?”

 

“Must have been,” agreed Kate, slipping under the duvet, being generally less particular about how her pillows were than Os although, given how little Osgood actually used her pillows, Kate had never quite understood what the pillow thumping ritual was for, but she wasn’t going to ask, not even after a more than decade of it.  “And it wasn’t about researching the potential for next generation vehicles…”

 

“Technically it was.”  Osgood took her glasses off before turning off the bedside light, not needing to be able to see to settle down comfortably in bed with Kate.  “The Tardis is a vehicle...and hardly current generation technology.”

 

“True…” Unable to defeat Osgood’s observation with logic, Kate concentrated on getting comfortable as she waited for Osgood to do the same.

 

“So she works on the Tardis, making her notes and then has these questions she needs answering…” As she worked through the logic, Osgood also concentrated on getting comfortable, which meant moving over to Kate’s side of the bed and tucking herself up as close to Kate as she could.  “So she keeps a copy on file for herself and what, gives the Doctor the original to deliver to UNIT?”

 

“Sounds about right,” agreed Kate, humour colouring her voice as she felt her arm being picked up so that Os could snuggle up underneath it.  “Comfy?”  Not that she was complaining, not when she’d lost count of the number of times she’d felt her world turned upside down in the last few hours as she discovered new ‘truths’ about her past.

 

“Getting there.”  In her shuffling, the duvet had slipped down round her waist, so Osgood hauled it back up so it was bunched up under her chin, Kate’s shoulder serving as her familiar and preferred pillow, although she’d end up on her actual pillows at some point in the night.  Kate was great for falling asleep on but wasn’t always the best to then sleep on, so sometimes Osgood would move back onto her pillows in her sleep, pillows that, after the thumping, would be fairly dust free.  “Ok, I’m comfy.”  Feeling settled at last, Osgood wiggled one final time and rather cheekily wrapped her cold feet around Kate’s warmer ones.

 

“Os!”  Startled, Kate bit her tongue as she was surprised by the shock, her whole body jerking which in turn jostled the offender slightly.

 

“Sorry…”  In the dark, Kate could hear the lightness in her lover’s voice that indicated she was grinning and no doubt trying not to laugh.

 

“Say it like you mean it…” grumbled Kate in mock disgruntlement as she pointedly set about getting comfortable again, although she kept a firm hold on Osgood so she wasn’t accidentally shuffled away from.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Hmm.”  Comfortable once more, she reached out with her warm again feet to find Osgood’s colder ones.  “I bit my tongue…” she mumbled sleepily as she set about warming up icy toes so they didn’t surprise her again.

 

“Want me to kiss it better?”  

 

“Mm…”  Kate attempted to move her head so that she could participate in the kiss, only to be surprised by the weight of her head and eyelids.  “In the mornin’...” she mumbled, giving into the urge to sleep finally, unable to fight it any more.  “Love you…” she added, managing to give Osgood an affectionate squeeze to avoid any chance of confusion as to who exactly she was talking about.

 

“I love you too,” confirmed Osgood, smiling as she abandoned her attempt at a final kiss when she heard her lover’s breathing shift as she fell asleep.  “Silly idiotic thing…” she added quietly as she snuggled into Kate’s body, pulling the duvet back up around them.

 

* * *

  


When the third set of scans confirmed that there was nothing in the immediate vicinity of the Tardis apart from his Master and increasing quantities of solidified dihydrogen monoxide, K9 cautiously advanced forwards just far enough to keep his tail inside the Tardis.

 

“Master?”  As he initiated a fourth scan of their surroundings, K9 watched what the Doctor was doing for a moment or two, trying to work out why they were ‘here’.

 

“Shh!”  Waving his hand in K9’s general direction, the Doctor glared at his sonic screwdriver before giving it a good shake and taking aim into the darkness once more, his head canted to the side.

 

Knowing that the Doctor would only make that noise once more before then shouting at him to be quiet, which K9 found even more confusing than the Doctor’s usual behaviour, he remained silent and continued to work through the fourth scan as he waited for an explanation as to what their purpose was for being ‘here’.

 

“Excellent…”  Evidently satisfied with what his screwdriver was finding, the Doctor did a slow, stately pirouette, his arms outstretched as if waiting to greet some giant person with a hug.  “Most excellent…”

 

“What is most excellent Master?”

 

“This!”  Scans completed, his earlier demands for silence forgotten about, the Doctor began to leap about with much more enthusiasm, his feet kicking through the soft drifts of falling snow as he twirled and jumped with evident delight.

 

“Snow Master?”  K9 felt his circuits freezing in his nose so inched back carefully until his tail and rear sensors were fully inside the Tardis, rationalising that his Master would not be served well by frozen circuits.

 

“They’re here!  They are all here!”  Activating his screwdriver once more, the Doctor scanned and spun and spun and scanned, pushing the range and limits of the screwdriver further and further until finally it overheated and stopped.

 

“Who are here Master?”

 

“Old Friends and New Friends and Friends not yet made.”  As he spoke, the Doctor became aware that his scarf had become unwound and was in danger of sliding into the snow, so he scooped it up and resettled it about his shoulders.

 

“Very good Master.”  Friends were always good in K9’s experience, although sometimes the Doctor’s friends turned out to be not as friendly as he first thought.  Feeling his circuits still cooling, no longer being occupied with the now completed and still uninformative fourth scan, K9 retreated another couple of inches into the warm Tardis.  “Are we to visit them?”  He wasn’t sure how far away these friends of the Doctor’s were, but they were outside his scanning range.  Visiting would mean very cold circuits.

 

“Visit?”  The Doctor, as if noticing the snow for the first time, started to shiver and so, in three long leaping strides, returned to the side of the Tardis and nimbly stepped around K9.  Stamping his feet just inside the door, he rubbed his hands vigorously.  “And come in, come in Old Friend, it’s cold outside!”

 

“Thank you Master.”  K9 retreated until all of his circuits except the tip of his nose was now inside the Tardis, the Doctor leaning against the still open door, looking out into the darkness that was starting to pale and brighten as the first glimpses of dawn began.

 

“It is time to go…” began the Doctor, absently running his hand over the ends of his scarf as he watched the sky continue to lighten as colour began to emerge, revealing that the Tardis had settled on a small snowy plateau high above the tree line in a mountainous region.

 

“Go Master?  And visit your friends?”

 

“It is time for us to go, now I know my friends are here.”  The Doctor looked down at K9, his expression softening as he thought of the friends that had gathered, friends that he would see, and see soon from their perspective but not for hundreds of years for him.  “It is not time to visit just yet.”  He looked back out across the mountains, towards where he knew there was a house in which his friends old, new and not yet made slept.  They’d not been hard to find, for high up in the mountains of Colorado there were few places where a Silurian Warrior, the last of her kind was sleeping next to her wife from another time.

 

“You do not wish to visit them Master?”  K9 would do what his Master wished of him, but he wondered why the Master had gone to the effort of coming here if not to see them.

 

“Not today K9, not today.”  Knowing he couldn’t visit them wasn’t the same as not wanting to visit.  It was one thing to not visit Vastra, for he could drop in on her some on some other occasion when they were both in her own time...perhaps then go and visit the Brig and share a smile when they hear the creak on the stairs as the little ‘tiger’ creeps out of her bedroom and sits on the third step from the top...it was so tempting to go there, to see the Tiger all grown up and with her perfect match and yet…  

 

Running his hand over the scarf, feeling the soft wool under his fingers and the occasional spark of time static, he knew that he could not, and must not.  That was why she’d brought them here, to this mountain peak - it was near enough to check, to confirm that everyone was here but far enough away to not interfere or upset, not that he could of course, but he understood nerves and fears.

 

“Everything’s ready…” He patted the doorframe of the Tardis and, with one final lingering look in the direction of the house that still slept, turned and headed for the control panel.  “Everyone’s here in plenty of time old thing,” he said affectionately, patting the dials of the central time board as, K9 no longer in the doorway, the door shut.  “There’s no need to worry…” he continued, watching the dials as the Tardis prepared to set off again, hurtling through time and space to wherever they next were to go.

 

“Master?”

 

“Where shall we go Old Friend?”

 

Before K9 could answer, the Tardis controls lit up and whirly things whirled and bleepy things bleeped.  It seemed that the Tardis already knew where they were going and, as the lights and the bleeps and the whirls got faster and brighter it was, concluded K9, running out of scans to complete, most peculiar: they’d come to a place, where the Doctor had friends both old and not yet made, at a time when they could not stay, having come with no warning, and they were now leaving with no plan.

 

Turning around in a full circle three times, K9 checked his circuits for what this might mean, and for the first time since they had started their visit to ‘here’, he was rewarded with an answer: his circuits could tell him what this all meant.

 

A Fixed Point in Time that his Master wasn’t yet at but was, at another point in his timeline, fast approaching.

 

K9 felt his circuits tingle as they began to calculate the risks and probabilities - fixed points were dangerous and difficult, the timelines stubborn and determined as they bent and twisted, being held in place.

 

The Tardis had been worried, had wanted to check.  This K9 could understand - he was worried and didn’t know what had needed to be checked.  But everything was ready, everyone was here.  That was what his Master had said, that his friends were here.

 

Friends were good, the Master’s friends were very good.

 

K9 felt the tingling in his circuits fade as, at the same time, the bleeping and the whirling slowed.

 

The Master had said that everything was ready.

  
The Tardis agreed.  All they needed now was to wait until Tuesday….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> For those of you having a bit of a headscratching moment about the Kate/Osgood references to how they met and got together, might I suggest a read/reread of:  
> \- A New Year... and McGillop Drank Most of His Beer (http://archiveofourown.org/works/5825524) which touches on how they met  
> \- Cheese Sandwich (http://archiveofourown.org/works/6554086/chapters/14995639) which, well, explains about cheese sandwiches :-)


	27. Keep Calm and Make Tea

 

_ "Mmm. Lost a planet, Master Doctor has." _ __  
__  
_ "Not lost, exactly..." The Doctor, adjusting his bow tie, looked towards Max.  "Who is your..." He looked back to Yoda and frowned.  "Short friend?" _ __  
__  
_ "That's Yoda Doctor."  Max couldn't believe that the two were only just meeting now, and he was there too!  This was so cool... _ __  
__  
_ "Bit short..." The Doctor walked around Yoda, scanning him with his screwdriver.  "Hmm..." _ __  
__  
_ "When 900 years old, you reach... Look as good, you will not." _ __  
__  
_ "Hardly."  Max wasn't sure he'd ever really understood what 'preening' was, but the way the Doctor was fiddling with his bow tie, hair and jacket... Yup, he was definitely preening.  "Hate to think what you'll look like in the 2,000s..." he muttered, continuing his slow walk around Yoda.  "Although it might just be a 900s thing... must admit, wasn't always my best then." _ __  
__  
_ "Planet Master Doctor.  Lost." Yoda, in his very Yoda type way, realised Max, was seemingly unperturbed by the Doctor's behaviour. _ __  
__  
_ "I've not lost it..." protested the Doctor, glaring at Max.  "Misplaced it.  And it was his fault." Max didn't particularly appreciate being on the wrong end of the sonic screwdriver, or being accused of something that wasn't his fault.  How could he be when he was with R2D2 and CP30 at the time? _ __  
__  
_ "Planet Lost."  Yoda looked at Max for a moment, as if noticing him for the first time.  Max knew he was blushing and didn't care.  Yoda had noticed him! Awesome!  "Embarrassing, Master Doctor."  Lapsing into silence, Yoda looked into the distance, leaving Max on tenderhooks to know what he was going to say next, and the Doctor grumbling to himself about idiot humans and kicking the sand about. _ __  
__  
_ Sand?  Max looked properly at his surroundings, seeing the desert stretching as far as he could see in all directions, nothing else to see except the Tardis.  Of course, being in the desert explained the sand. _ __  
__  
_ Wait... Why were they in the desert? _ __  
__  
_ "Sontar-Ha." _ __  
__  
_ "Pardon?"  Did Yoda just say.... _ __  
__  
_ "SONTAR-HA!"  He did, loudly. _ __  
__  
_ "SONTAR-HA!"  That wasn't Yoda's voice... that was... _ __  
  
"Strax!"   
  
"SONTAR-OUCH!"  Obligingly, Parker had left his boots next to his sleeping bag and managed to clobber the sitting up and shouting Strax quite forcibly on the head.   
  
"Thank you Strax,” said Parker through gritted teeth as he let go of his boot and let his head and shoulders drop back down onto the pillow he’d been using.

 

“You are welcome Mr Parker, and I look forward to killing you with my laser cannon after breakfast,” said Strax, rubbing his head with his hand, Max’s unloaded gun lying across his lap.  “But first I must light fires for the boy and search for the Moonite spies.”  Reverently, he lifted up Max’s gun and placed it carefully on the pillow which he’d kept by his side all night, never having grasped that it was supposed to provide added comfort for his head.

 

“Boy?”  Sitting up sluggishly, Max looked over at Parker.  “What is he talking about?”

 

“Every morning, he gets up and lights the kitchen and hall fires for Jenny Flint,” explained Parker, realising he probably should have mentioned the Sontaran’s unique way of greeting the morning before Max had fallen asleep last night.  “It must be 5.30am.”

 

“London time?”

 

“Local.  It’s a Sontaran thing.  He sleeps when commanded, wakes with the battle cry when ordered.  Not sure how he knows to go to sleep, but he wakes up every day at 5.30 local to light the fires so they are burning well before Jenny goes down to the kitchen at 6ish,” explained Parker, rubbing his face and trying to work out where he was and what the day would bring.

 

“You might have said mate,” grumbled Max, nevertheless deciding he didn’t actually mind getting up this early, although he’d have liked another five minutes in that dream…  “Wait, fires?”  He sat up properly and put aside his sleeping bag.  Mainly looking at Parker, although he was now keeping half an eye on what Strax was up to as the little Sontaran bustled about in the corner of the room where he had put his trunk, evidently getting ready for the day.

 

“Yeah, wood, coal, heat…” Parker continued rubbed his hands through his hair, trying to clear the fuzziness of sleep from his brain and generally wake up - he wasn’t a morning person, and being a coachman to Madame Vastra hadn’t helped him to become one, with the Silurian rarely wanting to travel before 11.  “OW!”  The splash of cold water on his face however, shocked him into being fully awake and he was sat up, glaring at Max in an instant.

 

“Welcome to the 21st century mate,” was all Max said, refusing to apologise and pointedly drinking his water, well, the bit that was left after he’d flicked most of the glass’s content in Max’s direction.  “No fires to light.  We should probably…”  Max jerked his head in the direction of the mumbling Strax, trying to hint to Parker that they should do something to keep Strax occupied so that he didn’t set fire to the kitchen or otherwise distinguish himself as the very worst sort of houseguest.

 

“Yeah…” Agreeing with Max’s assessment, but having no idea what to suggest, Parker concentrated on standing up and packing away his sleeping bag, hoping inspiration struck before Strax finished getting dressed.

 

“Max?”

 

“Yes Mate?”  Max was equally occupied with tidying away with his sleeping bag, and as a result had his back to both Strax and Parker.

 

“Any idea what I wear?”  Not quite following what Parker was meaning, as surely the answer of ‘clothes’ was obvious, Max started to turn around to see what his friend really meant.

 

“Oh god…” Clapping his hands over his eyes, Max attracted Parker’s attention with an embarrassingly un-Troop-like sort of squeak.

 

“What?”  Alarmed and confused, Parker started spinning round, rapidly scanning the room to see what hideous sight had…. “Oh my…”  Being only recently returned from the Victorian era, Parker’s language was still somewhat formal by 21st century squaddie standards, but his slacked jaw horror was genuine.  “That’s…” Speechless, in either century, Parker looked away and covered his eyes for good measure.

 

“Strax?”

 

“Yes Mr Parker?”  Strax turned around and looked at his friend and the bigger one.  “Are your eyes in need of gluing into your skulls?” he asked, unable to think of another reason for them to be holding their faces like that.  “I shall get my scanner.”  Distracted by this new duty, Strax started to stomp across the room, looking for his medical scanner.

 

“No!”  Parker’s shout made Strax stop, confused.  “Our eyes are fine Strax, or they will be.”  Parker took a deep breath and removed his hands from his face, taking great care to focus on the ceiling above where he thought Strax was now standing.  “Could you PLEASE put some clothes on?”

* * *

  
  


Not quite sure what had woken her up, Janet Fraiser shifted onto her back and studied the ceiling, barely visible in the still dark bedroom, wondering why she was awake.  What light there was in the room came from the various electronic devices - the digital alarm clock that told her it was a little past half past five in the morning, at least two hours earlier than she’d hoped to have to be awake on a Saturday morning and the pulsing white pinpricks of light on each side of the bed that silently recorded both she and Sam had received low priority emails from the SGC and USAF, unsurprising given the daily logs that were transmitted by various departments and Commands at all hours of the day and night.  Lying in the almost darkness, unable to see anything that could explain her wakefulness, she mentally ticked off what she could hear, starting with the gentle snuffling sound that definitely was her wife definitely  _ not _ snoring.

 

Relieved that whatever had disturbed her sleep hadn’t troubled her wife, Janet made a conscious effort to listen to the sounds originating from further away, her keen ear gradually sorting through the faint tick of the hot water tank kicking in on the timer that was set to ensure ample hot water was available for showers from 0600, the creak of a heavy footed Sontaran on the stairs, the quieter thud of a military boots going down the stairs after the Sontaran… wait, what on the stairs?

 

Sitting up at speed, the doctor rubbed her eyes with one hand while reaching to turn her bedside light on with the other.  Satisfied that she was definitely awake, that Sam was still asleep and that no, she hadn’t imagined Kate Stewart advising her on how long to wait before Lady Penelope’s manure would be transformed into prime organic mulch ideal for her roses, Janet decided that whoever was up and about was probably best supervised.

 

“Jan?”  It was only as Janet reached their bedroom door that Sam stirred slightly, just enough to notice Janet’s absence, but not enough to be fully awake.

 

“It’s still early Sam…” Janet opened the bedroom door just enough for her to be able to slip through it and shut it behind her again without waking up anyone else, “...go back to sleep.”

 

“‘kay…” Even as she was speaking, Sam was falling back to sleep, never really aware she’d been awake, just as Janet had hoped she would.  So focussed was she on closing the bedroom door quietly behind her so as to not to wake Sam up properly, she’d completely failed to notice that she wasn’t alone on the landing.

 

“Good morning,” whispered Osgood, her scarf wrapped twice round her neck so she didn’t get her sock clad feet tangled in its ends, the colours bright against the dark grey standard issue UNIT pyjamas the English scientist was wearing.

 

“Oh!”  Feeling her heart thud and her stomach twist, Janet turned around and immediately felt foolish when she saw Osgood standing watching her with a slightly puzzled expression.  “You startled me,” explained Janet instinctively copying Osgood’s whisper whilst mentally chastising herself for her decidedly unmilitary reaction and rather obvious statement.

 

“Sorry.”  Osgood repositioned her glasses.  “I was just going to get some tea.”  She felt rude, turning her back on Janet and leading her down the stairs and into the Doctor’s own kitchen, but equally she hadn’t really planned on standing on the landing for quite this long either.

 

“I’ll join you.”  Janet turned to lead Osgood down the stairs before pausing, sensing the question even though Osgood didn’t say anything.  “In the kitchen.  Not the tea.”  Shuddering at the thought of tea before mid afternoon, Janet continued downstairs, wondering if it was wise to actually want to know what was happening in her kitchen or whether she would have been better to stay in sleeping denial and just discover the damage afterwards.

* * *

  
  


Taking a deep breath when she approached the kitchen, Janet was about to open the door when, to her surprise, the door swung open and she came nose to nose with Strax.  There was a long, silent moment while they studied each other before Strax launched into what he wanted to say.

 

“Good morning Medical Boy, I look forward to boiling you in acid.”  Looking from Janet down in front of him, as if only just noticing that he had his hands full with something, he looked back up at Janet and added.  “May I deliver your morning Coffee?”

 

“I…”  Slack jawed, Janet found herself looking from Strax to Osgood, who was calmly rearranging her scarf so the purple blocks were level with each other, to Max who was leaning against the sink drinking from a mug of what was presumably tea, and back to Strax.  “Umm….”

 

“Oh!”  Parker’s head appeared from behind the door as his hand clamped down on Strax’s shoulder, holding the Sontaran reasonably firmly.  “Good morning Ma’am.  Come in!”  Parker squeezed Strax’s shoulder and managed to steer him away from the middle of the doorway, allowing Janet to enter her own kitchen.  “Strax, put the tray on the table please.”

 

“Very well.”  Obediently, Strax stomped over to the table and, with surprising delicacy, lowered the tray to the table, before shifting back upright.  “I shall go and clean my new grenades…” he muttered, stomping through to where there was a door out onto what, in summer was a shady decking area but this morning was covered in snow.

 

“Gre…” Janet stopped mid word when she saw Max put his finger to his lips and jerk his head in the direction of the disappearing Strax.  “...at idea,” she improvised, walking into her kitchen more confused than ever - she’d had more than twenty years experience with aliens but, in less than twenty hours of exposure to Kate’s world, it was clear she still had a lot to learn.

 

“Cricket balls.”

 

“Pardon?”  Janet looked at Parker while wondering if she was suddenly called Alice and actually exploring the depths of a rabbit hole.

 

“His new grenades are a box of cricket balls that we brought from London,” explained Parker, heading towards the stove and rescuing the kettle from where it was just starting to whistle.  “And do you have a teapot Ma’am?”

 

“That cupboard,” answered Janet automatically, pointing towards the cupboard just past Max’s head, “top shelf.”

 

“Thank you.”  Parker motioned for his friend to shift out of the way so that he could continue making the tea, his expression also making it fairly clear to Max that he needed to take over the conversation.

 

“Good morning Doctor.”  Max obediently got out of Parker’s way, before looking past Janet to the person whose arrival had prompted the need for the teapot.  “Hi Os…”

 

“Max.”  Osgood was about to say more when she surprised herself with a yawn.

 

“Do you want to take a mug up for Mum?” asked Max, heading across the kitchen to the cupboard that they’d already discovered was the home of the mugs.

 

“Please…” Osgood blinked and repositioned her glasses as she studied Janet who was now sat down at the table, mechanically pouring herself a mug of coffee but still looking rather dazed by the surreal turn her morning had taken.  “He didn’t mean it.”

 

“Who didn’t mean what?”

 

“Strax, about boiling you in acid.”  Osgood sat down opposite Janet, so she was in the doctor’s eye line, just beyond her steaming coffee mug.  “That’s the Sontaran equivalent of commenting on the weather.”  She looked thoughtfully at Janet as she replayed what he’d said in her mind.  “And he likes you.”

 

“How can you tell?”

 

“He was going to bring you coffee.”  Suddenly, Janet realised the significance of meeting him in the doorway, carrying a tray.

 

“Upstairs, to our room?  But…”

 

“He’s an alien?”

 

“Well, yes…”  Even as she said that, Janet realised how silly that sounded.  “No...not exactly.”

 

“He’s a Warrior, sentenced to a lifetime of servitude as a nurse, recently retrained as a Butler in Victorian London,” summarised Osgood as she accepted two mugs from Max and watched as, the pot now warmed, Parker started to measure out the spoonfuls of tea leaves.  “And one more please Parker.”

 

“Ma’am?”

 

“One for the pot.”

 

“I did that one first Ma’am…” Frowning, he quickly counted off how many scoops he’d put into it, before realising what Osgood was thinking.  “Thank you Ma’am.”  He put in another scoop.

 

“What were you thinking in?” asked Janet, fascinated but also wondering which one was going to be the Mad Hatter.

 

“The 19th Century.”  He put the lid back on the tea caddy which, realised Janet when she didn’t recognise it, must have been brought with them from Paternoster Row, although if you were going to the trouble of bringing your second best tea service, a tea caddy was hardly extravagant additional luggage.  “We brought the tea but forgot the spoon.”  He held up the spoon he’d been using for Janet to see, which revealed it to be one of her fairly ordinary teaspoons.  “The one I’m used to is a bit bigger.”  Parker turned back to the teapot and put the kettle back on the stove to bring it back to the boil.

 

“The teabag hasn’t been invented yet,” explained Osgood, anticipating what Janet’s next question was probably going to be.  “Not for another ten years or so from Jenny’s perspective.  We try to keep the little things the same so the time stream impact is minimal.”  Osgood watched, waiting for Janet to either ask another question or show any confusion in her expression but, perhaps because of her SGC experience, she seemed to nod in cautious understanding.  “Tablet computers and the internet are sufficiently massive leaps of technology that there’s no real damage done by Jenny having knowledge of them…”

 

“But putting some tea leaves in a little water permeable packet…” finished Janet, seeing what Osgood meant - if that small change, such an obvious adjustment when you knew to think about it, was brought forwards by a decade or so, the impact of that one small change could propagate into something much larger.  “What about Parker?”  Janet was aware of the soldier turning to look in her direction at the mention of his name but kept her attention on Osgood, having thought of him only by way of an example rather than an actual concern.  “He knows about tea bags.”

 

“But I don’t know how to sew Ma’am.”

 

“I could teach you, if you like?” volunteered Jenny, appearing in the doorway having not heard anything of their conversation prior to Parker’s assertion.  “What do you want to sew?”

 

“I don’t Miss…”  Parker was saved by the whistling kettle and concentrated on pouring the hot water into the teapot, hoping someone else would step in.

 

“Needlework is more of a hobby than a necessity now Jenny,” explained Janet quickly, before smiling as she realised something else she could mention that would not only help to change the direction of the conversation but had the advantage of being true as well, “apart from for people like me.”

 

“What’s special about you?” Jenny winced when she’d finished her question, not having meant to sound quite so rude, “I mean…” She looked at Osgood with a slightly panicked expression, wondering if her new friends had taken offence.

 

“I know what you meant,” agreed Janet kindly, taking a sip of her coffee to conceal her smile of amusement.  “And I know how to sew because of my medical training, but it’s generally called suturing rather than sewing.  But the principle’s the same.”  She looked at her coffee mug with a look of surprise on her face - it seemed that Commander Strax was rather good at making very drinkable coffee.

 

“You don’t know ‘ow to sew?” asked Jenny, looking at Osgood in amazement, not having considered that such a skill was no longer essential.

 

“Not in the way you do, no.”  Osgood adjusted her scarf as she thought about Kate.  “Kate’s better at it than I am.  She can do hems and seams, but I can do buttons.”  Their relative strengths in the needlework department were more due to their work wardrobes than actual sewing preferences.  Kate regularly caught her trouser hems with her heels and pushed her phone through the lining of her pockets, resulting in a fairly regular hemming and seam repairing session whereas for Osgood, who never wore cufflinks, the buttons at the cuffs of her shirts were fairly regular casualties.

 

“Button ‘oles are ‘arder than many think,” said Jenny, meaning to compliment Osgood on being better at sewing than she was giving herself credit for.

 

“I just meant sewing a button back on a shirt…” Osgood repositioned her glasses as she tried to work out the challenges of producing a neat buttonhole.

 

“Oh.”  Jenny sat down at the table, all thoughts of Parker’s lack of sewing ability gone as she now considered this new information.  She’d always known that Vastra couldn’t sew, but that had made sense somehow seeing as she was an ancient lizard woman from the dawn of time: Jenny hadn’t considered quite how different she was to these other humans.

 

“Jenny?”

 

“Yes Osgood?”

 

“I can’t make scones either.”

 

“Oh.”  Deep in thought, Jenny automatically accepted the mug of tea that Parker offered her, oblivious to the looks that were being exchanged between Janet and Osgood as they both concluded that the original ‘danger’ of Jenny discovering about teabags was passed.  “Osgood?”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“If you can’t really sew and you don’t know ‘ow to make scones…”  Jenny sipped her tea, pleased when it tasted familiar even if she’d just burned her tongue.  “...what can you do?”

 

There was a long pause as various looks were traded between Janet, Osgood, Max and Parker before Janet caught Jenny’s eye and saw the sparkle of humour in the younger Victorian’s expression, prompting her to start a smile of her own that quickly spread around the room as, much to everyone’s relief, it seemed that Jenny’s confidence was starting to return with a vengeance.

 

“Os has got many skills…” began Max, passing across to Osgood two mugs of tea that he had added appropriate dashes of milk to, “...but right this second her most valuable one is delivering tea.”

 

“It is?” Osgood accepted the mugs and looked at Max with a quizzical expression as she tried to work out what he’d worked out that she hadn’t twigged yet, before spotting his Blackberry on the kitchen counter, reminding her that she’d not checked hers yet.  “What’s happened?”  She took a fortifying sip of tea, mentally eliminating anything catastrophic or alien as he’d have mentioned it sooner or, if it were both catastrophic and alien, neither her nor Kate would have been allowed the luxury of sleep.

 

“Fog.”

 

“Where?”

 

“London...the plane’s not yet taken off.”  Which considering plan A had been for it to have landed by now, was something of a let down.

 

“Ah.”  Unable to reposition her glasses or check her scarf given each hand was holding a mug of tea, Osgood settled for wriggling her nose in disgust.  “Anything else?”

 

“Avian movement ban came into effect at 0600 GMT for fourteen days.”  As much as Max personally didn’t like the Ravens, finding them somewhat disconcerting, he did appreciate their skills and respect their abilities, like many at UNIT did.   From a tactical perspective, an avian movement ban seriously limited the tactical options available to UNIT at the Tower.

 

“She’s not going to like that,” muttered Osgood, knowing that Kate had a particular soft spot for the ravens and was always concerned if their well-being was in any way adversely affected by anything.

 

“It’s worse than that…” As Max took a deep breath, very glad that he had been able to deliver his briefing to Greyhound One via Greyhound Two, Janet was exchanging ‘speaking’ looks with Parker and Jenny to see if they were following any better than she was, concluding that Parker knew something but Jenny was as lost as she was, although Jenny had at least been able to mouth to Janet something about ‘the Tower’ which had helped Janet remember that the Tower of London was famous for its resident Raven population, not that she could see the relevance.

 

“How many are off site?” 

 

“All but two.”  Max winced when he saw Osgood’s small huff which, on the widely understood ‘Osgood scale’ was equivalent to a full on shouting session from Troop Command.  “They’re are working on quarantine and escort plans to get them operational.”  He cleared his throat and took another fortifying sip of his tea, not enjoying being the focus of Osgood’s scrutiny and that was despite knowing he was just the messenger.  “Ravenmaster is offering a brief by phone to Greyhound One at 1600 GMT…” There was a moment’s pause as Max, Parker, Osgood and Janet all mentally calculated that meant a phone call in just under three hours time.  “...unless an email advisory is sufficient.”

 

“What do you think?” asked Osgood, impressed with how Max was coping with the unexpected challenges of being the Troop in-field commander for a situation that was seeing Greyhound One this far from the Tower for what was clearly going to be several days.

 

“I’ve already told him that sufficient is Operational Ravens but in the interim an email advisory ahead of the phone briefing that must include regular updates through the London night will have to do.”  Max had not enjoyed that conversation with London, but had managed to get his point across without losing his temper with the Ravenmaster, just.

 

“Good.”  Osgood sipped her tea again, taking the opportunity it gave her to study Max and decide if there was anything else he might have preying on his mind.  “What’s up Max?” she asked finally, deciding that ‘Captain Stewart’ had done a good job but Max was still nervous about something.

 

“Gordy called.”

 

“He ok?”

 

“He’s fine, but…” Max ran his hand over his head trying to work out how to say what the message was, understanding why his brother hadn’t rung their Mum directly but not particularly impressed with his plan of getting Max to break the news.  “...the Apple tree fell over in the storm last night and landed on the greenhouse.”

 

“Oh.”  Osgood put both mugs down on the kitchen table and, with hands free, took her glasses off and started to clean them with the end of her scarf.  “Parker?”

 

“Yes Ma’am?”

 

“Osgood’s fine.”

 

“Yes M...Osgood.”  Parker corrected himself just in time, instinct seeing him returning the kettle to the stove.

  
“I think I’ll take fresh mugs of tea.”


	28. Early in the morning...with wiggly bits and square things

“Yes…”

 

“Hmm?”  Not really listening, but conscious that he’d made some sort of noise, River Song turned the page of the fascinating book on the archaeological treasures of the Grunkarkan System that she’d found in the Library and tried to remember to pay attention to the next noise he made.

 

“No…”

 

“Mmm…” Since he appeared to be advancing his side of the narrative without anything more distinct than non-committal noises from her, she carried on reading what was, if properly sourced (and she had no reason to doubt it since the footnotes were extensive and the Tardis was, while eclectic in taste and interest, extremely particular about the quality of tombe that she permitted to appear in her catalogue), a truly ground-breaking and galaxy changing treatise.

 

“It’s missing something…” As oblivious to River’s disregard for him as she was to what he was worrying about, the Doctor jumped up and snatched up the object he was scrutinising, holding it up towards the centre of the room and squinting at it.

 

“Ah…” Frowning, River marked her place with her right index finger and flicked back five chapters to the page she’d been marking with her left ring finger (it had to be good for something since no respected married time traveller accessorised with anything as mundane as a wedding ring) for just this moment in the text which, as controversial as it was when compared to the general theories prevalent in the twenty-seventh epoch of the Dewarjius Scholars, was by far the most sensible theory she’d ever come across, and that included works up to and including the Scholarly Revolt and the New Enlightenment of the forty-fifth epoch.

 

“Ah ha!”  Jumping both up and sideways, the Doctor pulled his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket, looked at it and put it back in his pocket.  “Of course!”  He jumped again, managing to land on one end of the creaky floorboard that River’s neatly crossed ankles were resting on the other end of, attracting her full attention.

 

“Yes?”  She’d intended to be cross with him, but he looked so giddy with delight it was hard to express her displeasure at the interruption with anything louder than a raised eyebrow, and that was mainly directed at the Tardis for engineering the interruption with the recalibrated floorboard.

 

“Square things.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“That’s what it’s missing!”  He tossed the thing that was minus its required quota of square things in her direction.  “With wiggly  edges.”

 

“This has straight edges.”  River put her book aside and looked at the ‘square thing’ in her lap that had a marked absence of wiggly edges.

 

“Not that square thing, the missing square thing…” The Doctor did two pirouettes before striding out across the Library towards the desk he hadn’t been sitting at.  “With faces.”

 

“You’re looking for a missing square thing with wiggly edges and a face?”  Despite her better judgment, River stood up and sauntered over to see what he was going to do next, carrying the existing ‘square thing’ with her.  “Have you lost your teddy bear again?”

 

“No, he’s…ahhh!” He looked her straight in the eye and wagged his finger in front of her nose.  “Not telling you.”  He tapped her on the nose for good measure, although it clearly triggered a relevant thought to emerge from somewhere because he did it again.  And again.

 

“It’s not a doorbell sweetie…” River was proud of herself for not retaliating, but then she was always very, very careful in libraries - books were just too important to not take care.

 

“What?”  Startled out of his thoughts, the Doctor paused mid ‘tap’ and looked at her as if surprised to see her standing that close.

 

“You need a Square thing, wiggly edges and a face?” reminded River kindly, finding her mood greatly improved now her nose was no longer being tapped.

 

“Exactly, how did you know?  Never mind.”  He held out his hand in what was a Universe-wide recognised gesture for ‘hand it over’.

 

“Know what?  And I’m not giving you anything…” River’s look of innocence had never been particularly effective but that didn’t stop her deploying it at a moment’s notice - she’d been in too much trouble not to know the value of even the weakest of defences, even if just for a second.

 

“I don’t want an Anything…” huffed the Doctor, folding his arms and glaring at her, “...I didn’t ask for an Anything, I asked for a Stamp!”

 

“Why didn’t you say so?”

  
“I did!”  He held out his hand, wanting River to hand back his envelope.  “Square thing, wiggly edges and a face on it.  That’s…” He snatched the envelope off her.  “A stamp!”

 

* * *

 

 

Opening her eyes, Vastra was surprised, sufficiently surprised that she blinked, made sure her dominant arm was not tangled up in the bed covering and then rapidly extended her tongue to its full length, taking a split second to ‘taste’ the air and check that all was well.  And then she blinked again: she was very, very surprised.

 

Sitting up carefully, remembering just in time that her left arm was still not quite as it should be as a result of her strained shoulder joint, Vastra instinctively kept the bed clothes up against her front and her back against the pillows behind her, but the exposed scales on her crown were confirming what her nose scales had already concluded: she was warm… in fact, she was warmer than warm, she was hot.

 

Startled by this realisation, Vastra pushed the bed covers away from her front and considered what she knew and what she could discern: she was the ‘Great Detective’ after all, and a simple change of country and century shouldn’t affect her common sense and ability to notice details, details that quickly came back to her as she shook the final vestiges of sleep away.  

 

Piece by piece it came together until she was satisfied she had everything in order: this bed had permanent warming pans under the sheet that used electricity not hot coals so the mattress under her was still warm; the bed cover over her was not a blanket but a ‘duvet’ or, as Janet Fraiser had called it, a ‘comforter’ which, Vastra remembered, Kate had mentioned was American for ‘duvet’.  Either way, whatever it was called, the combination of the two explained why she had forgone her usual nighttime attire and slept in...she delicately lifted the duvet to check that what she was feeling was what she felt...the scale and forewent nighttime attire while her wife had worn one of Vastra’s vests.  

 

Any further musing was interrupted by a tread on the stair outside and a gentle tap of warning on the door before Jenny slipped in, surprised to see her wife awake.

 

“Good mornin’!”  Jenny shut the door behind her and hovered at the foot of the bed, not quite sure what to do with herself.

 

“Good morning my dear…”  Vastra gave in to the urge to stretch, remembering just in time to take care not to overindulge with her left arm and distress her shoulder.  “Have I overslept?”

 

“No…” Anything else Jenny was going to say died in her throat as she was distracted by the sight of her wife’s exposed chest as, in seeking to properly enjoy her stretch, Vastra had let go of the duvet and not noticed its descent into her lap.

 

“Jenny?”  Stretch complete and feeling invigorated, Vastra was unable to immediately work out why her wife was standing with her jaw slack, although a quick analysis of where her eyes were focussed on gave the Silurian some clues.  Looking down, Vastra noted her lack of covering and, more intriguingly as far as she was concerned, realised that she hadn’t felt her exposure through a temperature change - not only did this time have exceptionally warm bedding technology, but their ambiant air systems were apparently most impressive and worthy of a compliment.  However, as technologically brilliant as this all was, it didn’t explain her wife’s reaction which, now Vastra looked at her again, had evolved slightly in that Jenny’s pupils appeared to be enlarged and her respiration was increasing.  “My dear?”  Concerned, Vastra began to move to get out of the bed and go to her wife who, if she didn’t know better, was apparently demonstrating the characteristic ‘fear’ response she’d come to recognise in apes which, while not surprising given her different appearance, would be incredibly disappointing and depressing if that was her wife’s reaction now, not to mention alarming and confusing after all this time and acquaintance.  “You are afraid…”  There was something in Vastra’s tone of voice that clearly penetrated through Jenny’s daze, as she jerked into life as suddenly as she’d stopped.

 

“What?”  Rubbing her eyes, Jenny managed to get her jaw going and tried to work out why Vastra had formed such a conclusion.  “‘ow did you work that out?” Normally, Jenny hated having to admit that she couldn’t work out what Vastra had already deduced, but she wasn’t interested in wasting time on something as ridiculous as this latest idea of Vastra’s.

 

“Your pupils have dilated…” Vastra began to recite the observations she had made, counting them off on her claws which, now she looked at them, probably needed trimming again.  “Your respiration is shallow, and is increasing…”

 

“Daft lizard.”

 

“These are symptoms of the ape fear response,” corrected Vastra, ignoring the insult although she did watch Jenny closely as she moved around the room.

 

“You hit or ‘ead or somethin’?” asked Jenny as she approached Vastra, not sure whether to be amused or angry at her daft, daft lizard wife.

 

“My cranium is undamaged,” huffed Vastra, nevertheless delicately touching the ridges of her crown with her fingertip to make absolutely certain that every scale was in good order.  “And my shoulder is much recovered as well,” she added for good measure, giving the joint a cautious wiggle.

 

“Good.”  Jenny stopped by the side of the bed and boldly gave one of the ridge’s of her wife’s crown a sharp flick, earning her the expected short hiss and less than pleased look.  “That’s for being an idiot.”

 

“You’re not afraid?”

 

“A course not!” As she spoke, Jenny put her hands on Vastra’s shoulders, her fingers immediately starting to trace patterns as they trailed along the edges of the scales, instinctively navigating along the ridges until she felt the textures of the scales shift from the tougher, protective scales of Vastra’s shoulder blade to the softer, more sensitive scales nearer to the base of the Silurian’s neck.  “I was surprised…”

 

“Surprised by me?” Instinctively, Vastra wrapped both arms around Jenny’s waist and started to try and pull Jenny back into bed with her.  “That I was awake?”  She knew she had a bad reputation in the mornings, but always claimed that rather than her being the one who overslept, it was her wife who just insisted on starting the day far too early.

 

“And flashing your scales at me…” Jenny emphasised her point by trailing her finger down the centreline of her wife’s back, enjoying the feeling of Vastra almost shivering under her touch as finally, Vastra remembered that she wasn’t wearing any night clothes and hadn’t been muffled up to the neck in the bed clothes either.

 

“I am hot…” Vastra was trying to explain why she’d been flaunting her scales but really, with Jenny’s finger finding all her delicate spots...thinking was not all that easy.

 

“Very hot,” agreed Jenny, pushing Vastra back down onto the bed and following quickly, wanting to stop talking and start with some kissing.  “And daft…”

 

* * *

 

 

“Mmgh…”

 

“And to you.”  Smiling, Osgood pushed her glasses further up her nose and reached down to her hip where Kate was gently headbutting her.

 

“Mmmmgh…” Whatever she’d hoped to happen, evidently hadn’t happened as Kate, still not properly awake, was attempting to headbutt her lover’s hip with a little more determination.  “....Guh!” Instead however, she awoke with a start as, in an effort to defend herself, Osgood had gently found her lover’s nose and pinched it closed for a second in what was an effective, and now familiar and therefore no longer harsh, technique at getting Kate to wake up in such moments.

 

“Hello…”  Osgood continued working on her tablet and waited for Kate to finish waking up and roll back onto her pillow.

 

Hey…”  Blinking to clear the grit of sleep from her eyes, Kate looked away from Osgood and tried to focus on the ceiling, which unlike Os, was at a distance where she didn’t need her glasses.  “...sorry…” The apology was instinctive, triggered by the residual feeling in her nose of an almost sneeze that wasn’t, which was the clue as to how she’d been woken up and therefore what she’d been trying to do in her sleep.  


“You were dreaming about sleeping again…” observed Osgood as, email sent, she put the tablet on the bedside table, along with her own glasses.  After a number of years of mystery, Osgood had finally worked out that Kate’s movement was broadly the same as when she was shifting her head into a more comfortable spot on Osgood on the rare occasions Kate used Osgood as a pillow.  


“Mmm? Sorry…”  Kate blinked a couple more times to clear her eyes.  “...truffle hunting...”  


“And yet you’re not comparing my arse to a fungus?” huffed Osgood as she shifted so she was lying down next to Kate: if they were nose to nose, neither of them needed the rest of the world to be in focus.

  
“Rare, precious and delicate…” corrected Kate, enjoying the normality of the familiar banter between them despite the unfamiliar location and general emotional roller-coaster of the discoveries of the day before.   She had for years joked that she was probably dreaming about being a truffle hunting pig by way of explaining her strange headbutting shuffling she occasionally did in her sleep: while Osgood’s new explanation was more plausible, Kate still hung onto the familiar tease. 

  
“Smooth talker…” Osgood, now comfortably settled on her side, her head on the pillow barely an inch from Kate’s, leaned forwards, meeting Kate’s lips halfway in a brief kiss that ended on a note of ‘more to come’ rather than ‘that’s done for the day’ which still made her toes tingle, even all these years later.

 

“Morning…” Kate stretched her head forwards and stole another brief kiss, her hand slipping across the mattress to find Os’s hip under the covers as she did.  “...am I late?”

 

“Some of us were early…”  Osgood mirrored her girifriend’s movements and sought out Kate’s hip with her hand, remembering the time showing on her tablet screen right before she took her glasses off.  “It’s almost seven… Max and Parker woke up when Strax did at five thirty.”

 

“Why so early?”

 

“At Paternoster Row he does the fires and chores before Jenny gets up.  They got up to keep him from doing anything that might prove to be…” Kate sensed Osgood’s frown without being able to see it properly, “...expensive.  Apparently Sontarans are as unfamiliar with the lie in as you were…”

 

“Small child remember?” protested Kate amiably, remembering those lazy weekends in Geneva when Os had helped her re-learn lie-in skills she’d forgotten when she’d had Gordy.  “You got up?”

 

“I got tea…” Osgood looked past Kate’s face towards the bedside table which had a mug of still fairly warm tea on it for Kate if she wanted.  “...and an update from Max.”

 

“Oh?”  Kate thought about reaching for the tea for a split second then changed her mind - tea was a poor second to a few more moments like this, just the two of them.  “How’s he doing?”

 

“Concerned Mum?” guessed Osgood, feeling Kate’s squeeze of her hip in confirmation that she’d got Kate’s priorities in the right order.  “He’d doing really well, I’ve already emailed Maria Walsh to say so, so you can be proud Mum,” teased Os, tickling Kate’s hip not because Kate was ticklish, unlike Osgood and Max, but because it gave her a chance of finding her way between the layers of grey cotton that their borrowed standard issue UNIT pyjamas and getting to warm skin, something that was normally far more straightforward when Kate was wearing her ‘proper’ pyjamas at home.

 

“I’m always proud Mum…” Kate trailed off as she mentally finished the rest of her statement, not wanting to say outloud that while she was always a ‘proud Mum’ she all too often had to be a ‘stubborn Greyhound’ or worse first.

 

“He knows that, they both do,” reminded Os, only just managing to suppress her small whoop of triumph at finally penetrating Kate’s pyjamas and being able to start stroking aimlessly on warm, familiar skin.

 

“Tell me I can wear my own pyjamas tonight?” asked Kate as she finally  felt the familiar touch of Os’s fingertips start to trace what were no doubt very meaningful squiggles over her back and side.

 

“Ah…yes…”

 

“Os?”  Kate shifted across the bed so she could wrap her leg over Osgood’s, reinforcing their togetherness for whatever Os had discovered or learned.  “What was the update?  Is everyone ok?”

 

“Everyone’s fine....well, not the Ravenmaster.  He’s a jibbering wreck apparently.”

 

“Max said that about Carfax?”  It wasn’t that Kate couldn’t picture Carfax in such a state, because she could, but she was struggling to picture Max describing the Ravenmaster that way.

 

“No, Maria Walsh.  Max was...diplomatic but firm.”  Osgood cleared her throat and got to her main point before Kate could interrupt her with another question.  “You’ve a call with Carfax at 9am our time.  Unofficially, Maria would like you to be grumpy.”

 

“About?”

 

“All but two of the Ravens were off-site when a fourteen day Avian Movement Ban came into effect at 6am London.”

 

“Are they on-site now?”

 

“That might be why Carfax has to call you and Maria would like you to be grumpy…”

 

“Unofficially?”

 

“Unofficially,” agreed Osgood, grinning so broadly that even Kate could spot it without her glasses.  “Officially it’s been suggested to Carfax that Max and I are earning hazard pay trying to keep you from exploding.”

 

“Consider this tea and medals…” joked Kate, leaning in and ‘rewarding’ Osgood with a languid kiss that saw them end up with Kate lying on her back and Osgood tucked up against her side.  “...and before you say anything, no, Max isn’t getting the same reward.”

 

“Let him watch the rugby later…”

 

“Rugby?”

 

“England play Fiji at Twickenham.  It’s on the internet.”  It wouldn’t be quite the same, watching it streamed rather than somewhere with other people who understood the rules of rugby union, but at least here no one would mind that he cheered no matter who scored given his dual heritage.  “And I’m talking to you as his Boss not his Mum…”

 

“He’s a bit old for me to be telling him what he can and can’t watch…” teased Kate, glad that she’d not had to parent teenager boys in the era of the smartphone.  “What’s happened to the plane?”

 

“You noticed…” Kate felt Osgood’s response, which was muttered into around about her third rib, rather than properly heard it, but also knew it was a rhetorical statement rather than a question.  “Fog.  Maria stood down the crew and rescheduled them for tomorrow.”

 

“That’s…”

 

“Not the protocol? No.”  Osgood thought back to the rapid flurry of emails she’d suddenly found herself exchanging with the experienced Troop Officer in Command back at the Tower once she’d appeared online when she turned on her tablet after returning upstairs with the tea.  It took a lot for Maria Walsh to break with protocol, but when she did, it was usually for an excellent and often inspired reason and this was, in Osgood’s view, no different this time.  “Unofficially she’s hoping you’ll approve the requisition orders in your inbox and blame Win Bambera if you’re cross.”

 

“And officially?”

 

“She apologises for taking a liberty but did check with General Bambera before she did it.”

 

“And what is ‘it’?  Or do I need my glasses?”

 

“You don’t need your glasses…” promised Osgood, taking a moment to shuffle into a more comfortable position, not liking the feeling of the baggy grey t-shirt fabric against her face very much.  “She needs you to approve a change of aircraft - she’s reviewed the cargo and is now sending what she thinks you’ll find most useful.”

 

“I doubt that list includes my pyjamas and your jumper.”

 

“It does actually...as well as my inhalers, the book on your bedside table, decent orange marmalade, my pyjamas and hot water bottle…” Osgood thought for a moment for what else was on the lists that she’d glanced at.  “Several tonnes of winter gear for Max and another twelve members of Troop.”

 

“No ravens?”  Kate had meant that to be a joke, but wasn’t entirely surprised when Osgood answered.

 

“Pencilled in for Tuesday, assuming the paperwork is sorted out given the movement ban.  And they can work out where to have them billeted to if the Doctor is late.”

 

“Anything else?”  

 

“A greenhouse catalogue.  The apple tree blew down in the storm.”

 

“Ah.”  Kate considered this final piece of information for a moment, trying to work out which end of the greenhouse had been damaged if it was the apple tree that was the culprit.  “Os?”

 

“Mmm?”

  
“We have an interesting definition of fine…”

 

* * *

 

Closing the bedroom door behind her, Janet saw their bed no longer contained a sleeping General.  For a moment, in her capacity as said General’s Chief Medical Officer, Janet was irritated as she knew first hand how little sleep Sam was getting of late, but irritation was quickly replaced with relief as she realised she no longer had to wonder how to entertain their rather eclectic assortment of houseguests on her own.  Assuming of course, that she could find her missing wife.  

 

Not hearing the sound of the shower running in their en suite bathroom, Janet was just trying to work out if she’d maybe missed Sam downstairs somewhere, the study most probably, when Sam appeared in the bathroom doorway, hair still wet and a large towel wrapped around her, its end tucked between her breasts.

 

“You’re awake.”

 

“I woke up and you were gone...I guess our guests are early risers?”  Sam felt a drop of water start to run down her forehead, prompting her to lean forwards and, using the bottom corner of the towel, stop the water droplet’s progress before it reached her nose.

 

“Some are…”  Janet decided not to bother mentioning that Sam had half woken when Janet had got out of bed but had gone back to sleep almost immediately.  “It seems Strax has quite a stubborn internal alarm clock and doesn’t suffer from jet lag.”  She frowned as she realised something else she might need to consider that she hadn’t previously thought of.  “He’s seven hours back and a century or so on…” Before deciding she’d not had enough coffee to finish that thought and probably, by the time she had appropriately caffeinated, there would be a different problem to think about instead.

 

“What time did he get up?” asked Sam, at least now beginning to understand why they were having such an early start given that it was a Saturday and no one had to report for duty anywhere.

 

“0530 apparently.”  Janet smiled when she saw her wife’s wince - it had taken a while, but rank did have some privileges including the notional recognition of weekends not needing to be started at first light.  “His morning usually starts with lighting the fires for Jenny and dealing with the wood and coal…”  When she’d mentioned fires, Sam’s eyes had widened as clearly she’d had the same thought Janet had had at first - if his inner alarm clock didn’t break from routine when changing century, how would he cope with their centrally heated house and one fireplace intended to ‘look homely’ rather than be their primary heat source?  “But Max and Parker redeployed him, to the wood shed.”

 

“Ah…” It took Sam a moment to work out why Janet had said ‘to the woodshed’ with emphasis but when it hit her, she had the grace to blush, a blush that started at her cheekbones and finished, noted Janet absently, around about her wife’s fourth rib.  “...I never chopped the wood…”

 

“No, but we now have a Sontaran in our woodshed singing about cleaning his grenades.”  

 

“How do you clean a grenade?”

 

“No one knows.  I think we’re not supposed to ask.”

 

“Understood.”  Grinning, Sam found herself caught up in the amusement of their situation in a way that, had they been talking about _her_ aliens, she’d have never been able to acknowledge.  “So if there’s a Sontaran in our woodshed…”

 

“The Victorians are in the spare bedroom next door, excluding Parker.”

 

“I don’t think he counts as a Victorian.”  

 

“No, probably not.”  Janet paused to remember who else she needed to tick off in her list of who was where with whom.  “We’ve got Greyhounds in the guest room at the end…” Janet now understood why Max Stewart thought of Kate and Osgood as ‘the Greyhounds’ - it was much easier to keep track of and exactly the same logic that saw Janet still think of some of their friends by their SGC offworld team designations when they had the larger reunions and get togethers.  “And UNIT on the driveway with snow shovels.”

 

“Ah.”  That, realised Sam, explained the slightly weird light she’d seen through the gap in the curtains - the half light of dawn on heavy snowfall would create that sort of glow.  “Anything else?”

 

“The bread’s proving.”

 

“Proving what?”

  
“That you know nothing about baking…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that can't place the character, Colonel Maria Walsh appeared in the Zygon two-parter episode (played by Rebecca Front). And yes, I'm ignoring a canon inconvenience because I like the character :-) If you'd like to understand a bit more about how I've developed the character, you might care to read my fic 'Science Leads With or Without Eggs'.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	29. Smaller than your Average Marine

 

“That was…”  Sam paused to finish swallowing her last mouthful of food, “...great…”  She leaned around Janet who was sat in her lap so as to be able to smile in appreciation at Jenny who was across the table from her.  “Thank you Jenny.”

 

“Mmm…” Nodding, Kate forced a smile past her rather large bite of bacon and fried egg sandwich until, mouthful swallowed, she was able to speak more clearly.  “Yes, thank you Jenny, that was excellent.  What?”  

 

Both Jenny and Sam looked confused for a second before they realised that Kate’s last question was directed not at them but at Osgood, who was perched on Kate’s lap - their unusual seating arrangement in response to no one wanting to move from the kitchen once they’d smelt the wonderful breakfast Jenny had been producing and the kitchen table not being big enough for everyone to have their own seat.  Ever practical, Janet had quickly solved the impasse by sitting squarely on her wife’s lap and glaring at Kate until she’d got the hint and moved her chair so Osgood, who had been leaning against the sink, could sit down.  Vastra, deciding wisely not to go looking for trouble with her hostess when outside the snow was past her knees merely shifted her chair so that Jenny could use her lap when she wanted to sit down. 

 

There was a long pause before Osgood, her own mouthful of bacon and egg sandwich not only swallowed but also washed down with tea, provided an answer.  “Don’t talk with your mouthful.”

 

“But…”  Kate was about to protest that not only had she been almost finished anyway, but that ‘Mmm’ could hardly be classed as ‘talking’ when she caught a fleeting glimpse of Max’s far too amused expression before he managed to lean just out of her eyeline, taking full advantage of Osgood’s detrimental effect on Kate’s overall view of the kitchen.

 

“Max?”

 

“Yes Os?”

 

“Stop laughing at your Mum.”

 

“But…”  Suddenly, finding himself on the receiving end of Osgood’s gentle disapproval at the less than ‘best’ manners they were displaying, he fell silent, certain the tops of his ears were now glowing based on how warm they were feeling.

 

“It were only a bit of a fry…” protested Jenny, feeling embarrassed at the praise she was getting from these women who had their doctorates and important responsibilities.  “That’s a funny pan though…” She looked back at the cooker where, resting on the top was Janet’s biggest frying pan, sitting ready to go back on the heat if more breakfast was needed.  “It’s slippy and not so ‘eavy as I’m used to…” 

 

“Aluminium non-stick.”   Janet had answered before she’d finished thinking whether this was another ‘tea-bag’ moment, which, when she remembered,  prompted her to suddenly stop talking.  Fortunately, while everyone else noticed, Jenny was already looking directly at Osgood, who was clearly her nominated ‘explainer of everything American’.

 

“Uh…” Osgood put her now empty plate back on the table in front of her before adjusting her glasses and shifting on Kate’s lap so that she could seek help from Kate if necessary - material science was definitely within her core knowledge, but the history of the frying pan?  That was more sophisticated culinary detail than she’d needed to get through mastering cooking for one.  But first, there was the small matter of pronunciation.  “The pan is made from aluminium…” Osgood saw a flicker of recognition in Jenny’s face when she heard the English pronunciation of the lightweight metal.  “Have you read Jules Verne?”

 

“Journey to the Moon,” remembered Vastra promptly, knowing that Mr Verne’s works were some of their favourites and pleased to hear that they clearly still were known in this time.  “The rocket ship was made of Aluminium.”

 

“I thought it’d be shiny…” muttered Jenny, casting a doleful look at the pan, like it was personally tricking her by being dark and slippy, not shiny.

 

“That’s because it is covered in…” Osgood stopped herself before she said ‘polytetrafluoroethylene’ as, just in time, she realised that would create more questions for Jenny than were probably needed.

 

“...a manufactured substance that won’t stick to water,” finished Sam, realising that this was a similar situation to when Jack O’Neill wanted a ‘doohickey’ explained - it wasn’t that he was incapable of understanding the detailed science, it was just that it wasn’t necessary for him to understand the detail in that moment:  Jenny didn’t need the materials science lecture, she just needed to know what made it ‘slippy’.

 

“That’s what makes it slippy?”

 

“That’s what makes it slippy,” agreed Osgood, shooting a quick smile of gratitude in Sam’s direction.  “Anything that’s got water in it won’t stick to it, so as long as you remember that you’re cooking something before it’s turned burned to a crisp…” She looked away from Jenny long enough to send a pointed look in Max’s direction, deciding he was still enjoying Kate’s earlier discomfort a little too much.

 

“Because then it’s gone dry...” It was Jenny’s turn to look at Vastra who evidently was as forgetful about leaving pans on the stove as Max had been.  “See?  I told you I don’t eat dry food.”

 

“Yes dearest.”  Everyone recognised Vastra’s tone - it was the universal tone of ‘I’m agreeing with you because I’ve already surrendered, not because I agree.’

 

“Daft lizard…” muttered Jenny affectionately as she turned back to face the table, not sure what else to say but rather glad that the conversation had moved on from her cooking - it wasn’t like she’d cooked a banquet, just fried some eggs and bacon to go between the slices of bread cut from the loaf of just about acceptable bread she’d baked.  It could have done with sitting longer, but there wasn’t time...at least this was a lovely warm kitchen so she hadn’t needed to work out how to make the oven do anything other than make it hot but not really hot...she’d do better with the next one.

 

“What’s the problem with the ravens?” asked Janet, returning to a question that she’d had when she’d first come down for Coffee, only for Osgood to leave with her tea before Janet could ask.  She’d briefly thought about asking Max, only to realise that despite being relaxed around Kate and Osgood because of their familial relationship, he was clearly too good a soldier to answer with anything other than ‘you’d need to ask a Greyhound’ or words to that effect.

 

“Which ones?”

 

“Uh…” That hadn't been the response she'd expected and Janet was unsure what she was supposed to say.

 

“What?” Once again, Kate addressed herself to Osgood who had clearly interjected with another clearly well placed pinch, prod or poke.

 

“Be nice,” chided Osgood gently, knowing Kate wasn't deliberately being either obtuse or difficult but just failing to remember that not everyone knew everything or even anything about the Tower.  Even Gordy knew a fair bit about the Tower and he'd never 'officially’ knew anything.  “And start at the beginning?”

 

“Ah, yes.”  Kate did manage a sheepish half-smile at that non-too-subtle hint from Os, before turning back to look properly at Janet, intending to explain herself better when she was distracted by a movement.  “Maximillian?”

 

“Yes?”  Frozen, one hand outstretched towards the last remaining bacon-and-fried-egg sandwich, the other hand still holding onto the edge of the kitchen worktop from which he’d just jumped down, Max tried to look like ‘Captain Stewart’ and not like the naughty schoolboy that normally saw his full name being used.  “I mean…” He realised his second mistake and dropped both hands to his sides and stood up properly, no longer trying to stake his claim on the final sandwich.  “Yes Mum?”  His Boss’ Boss never called him ‘Maximilian’ and he was under strict instructions to try to remember not to call her ‘Ma’am’ when she was in ‘Mum’ mode.

 

“Has Tyler had seconds yet?”

 

“Umm…” That he hesitated told Kate everything she needed to know.

 

“Should you be having thirds?”

 

“Ah…”  Glancing around the kitchen, Max spotted a box called ‘Glad Wrap’ which looked the right shape to be either cling film, foil or greaseproof paper, which was exactly what he needed.  “I’ll go take him the sandwich.”

 

“Thank you.”  Reaching past Osgood, Kate picked up her mug of coffee and took a sip, carefully avoiding making eye contact with Janet who was struggling not to smile.

 

After Max had left, taking the sandwich with him, it was Sam who broke the silence with another, new question that was suddenly even more pressing than what the problem was with the ravens.

 

“Who’s Tyler?”

 

“Bombardier Parker.”  Kate felt the need for another fortifying sip of coffee, only to discover her mug was empty.  Not quite sure if Os would appreciate being dislodged from her lap so she could go get a refill, she started to put her empty mug back on the table only for Osgood to immediately pick it up and get up - she’d been waiting for Kate to finish before getting them both top ups while Kate answered everyone’s questions.  It wasn’t that Osgood couldn’t answer them - she knew the answers as well as Kate did, but this was what Kate was good at, this was what Dr Stewart did, this was why  _ she _ was Greyhound One.

 

“That’s…” Jenny was about to say something she realised wasn’t perhaps very kind, not considering he was living in a different time to help them, so stopped, and therefore didn’t notice when Vastra interrupted her.

 

“A name as alien to our time in London as mine, but without the social position or venom sac to be able to avoid interrogation as to its origins, so we call him Parker.”

 

“An’ I never asked ‘im…” concluded Jenny, once she was over the surprise of his ‘funny’ name, appalled to realise how rude she’d been, “...accidental like…” she clarified, looking to Osgood for condemnation or reassurance as she waited for the next pot of coffee to brew.

 

“Not all of us use our first names everyday.”  What had meant to be a quiet comment solely for Jenny’s benefit sounded loud in the kitchen and saw Osgood adjusting her glasses nervously when she realised everyone was looking at her, her own apparent lack of a first name suddenly looming large like an unmentioned ‘elephant in the room’ was standing next to her.

 

“How are Strax’s feet?” asked Kate, wanting to quickly change the subject away from the accidental can of worms she’d almost opened when all she’d done was fail to switch from ‘Mum’ to ‘Ma’am’ and so, in speaking to Max as ‘Mum’, had automatically used Parker’s first name rather than his rank or surname.

 

“Surprisingly sensitive.”  Janet had, in her military career, seen all manner of foot injury as a result of excessive marching and standing in ill-fitting footwear that was often inappropriate to the conditions they’d been worn in.  “And a US 8, with double socks.”

 

“That’s…” Suddenly Sam was the one realising she’d maybe started something she didn’t want to finish, especially considering who was sat in her lap and what was therefore in pinching and prodding range.

 

“Yes?”  Unfortunately, so had Janet, and Sam was unable to withstand the pressure of that particular raised eyebrow whether she be on the receiving end as wife or General.

 

“Rather small compared to your average Marine?”

 

“Commander Strax is hardly an average Marine.” While too polite to say it outloud, everyone heard Vastra’s unspoken ‘stupid ape’ hang in the air after her statement.

 

“No…” agreed Janet cautiously, hoping that Jenny’s presence in Vastra’s lap would serve to slow down Vastra if the Silurian was to shift from irked to angry.  “But like myself, he is somewhat shorter.”

 

“Height has no correlation with ability,” agreed Vastra magnanimously, relieved when she felt a slight tension ease from her wife’s posture - it had been a turbulent beginning to her relationship with Jenny when, as a Warrior Silurian who’d been at the shorter end of her species’ range of permitted heights for military service, Vastra had struggled to look beyond Jenny’s ‘diminutive stature, even for an ape’.  “But some correlation with foot size.  This US-8-with-double-socks…” she spoke the words together at speed, presuming it to be a single term in the ‘American’ dialect their hostesses spoke in, “...is small by your Military standards?”

 

“A little.  For men, but not women.  Sontaran feet are narrower than our feet, so to make his new snow boots fit he has to wear two pairs of standard issue winter socks.”  It had, by all accounts, been something of a challenge for Stores to work out what size uniforms to issue to Strax and Vastra even considering the Base was far from inexperienced when it came to outfitting alien visitors with climate-appropriate clothing.  It had been yet another ‘different sort of aliens’ moment but they’d got there eventually.  “He’s enjoying the snow…” Actually, he was enjoying being allowed to do extended ‘target practice’ with ‘snow grenades’ that Parker and Max had shown him how to make, the idea of making a snowball having never occurred to the Sontaran despite spending more than one snowy winter in London surrounded by snowball throwing kids.  “Apparently it is a foolish enemy that continues to attack even after it has been defeated on the gloriously cleared field of battle.”

 

Janet was rather proud that even Kate’s jaw appeared to drop a little at that piece of news.

 

“Defeated on the gloriously cleared field of battle?”  Sam knew she probably could work out what the Sontaran had meant if she thought about it, but right now she was struggling to get her brain in gear - by SGC standards, they were well and truly in completely alien territory now, well outside her experience.

 

“Our driveway, which is no longer under three foot of snow.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“Uh, Kate?”

 

“Mmm?”  Automatically, Kate accepted her mug of coffee from Osgood with a smile of thanks and took a sip from it, immediately finding it too hot to drink.

 

“It’s almost time…” reminded Osgood, holding out her wrist with her watch on it at the appropriate distance for Kate to be able to make out the dial without needing her glasses which were still upstairs, along with her Blackberry.

 

“Ah, yes.”  Standing up, coffee mug in hand, Kate excused herself and headed off to find her Blackberry, Max and glasses before Carfax rang as ordered to discuss the ravens.  It was only after she’d been gone for at least a couple of minutes that Janet realised something.

  
She still didn’t know what the hell was wrong with the ravens!


	30. When is a Raven not a Raven?

"Sam?"

 

"Mmm?"  Concentrating on what she was reading for a moment longer, a moment during which the calculation she was studying made enough sense for her to identify the error, Sam scribbled in the margin and then looked up, a warm smile immediately gracing her face when she saw the interruption was her wife.  "Hi.  Sorry."

 

"Hi."  Janet stepped fully into the study and shut the door behind her.  "Can I ask a question?"

 

"Of course..." Sam dropped her pen onto the desk and tidied the spread out papers back into an almost neat pile - now she'd found the calculation error she'd finished all the 'absolutely must do' work that Jake had sorted out for her.  "What's up?"

 

"Does Kate know about the Rings?"

 

"The Transportation Rings?"  Sam frowned in thought and chewed on her lower lip while she tried to remember what if anything UNIT might know.  "She'll have been briefed about their existence and our general capability...but she's probably forgotten anything specific."  Sam had to laugh when she saw Janet's expression - it clearly suggested that only a fool was able to forget being told about them having matter transportation technology.  "We, ah, don't share tech briefings in very much detail..."

 

"Why not?"  Janet had over the years been exposed to far more international diplomacy and horse trading than she might have anticipated given she'd joined the USAF as a medical doctor rather than a diplomat, but she didn't understand why UNIT and the SGC weren't sharing their technology.  Surely they could be useful to each other?

 

"I'm sure there's lots of politics, but..." Sam paused to think about what she could say that would answer Janet's question well enough to be able to move on to whatever was her wife's real question without needing to deliver an Academy lecture.  "...it's another different sort of alien moment.  There's no way of knowing whether, say, Asgard technology is compatible with Sontaran or Silurian."

 

"That didn't stop us mixing everything up..." Some of Sam's best inventions were precisely because she would integrate knowledge and ideas from a number of technologies and planets.  "What don't I know?  About UNIT's aliens and ours?"

 

"Can I answer that after I've talked to Kate?" There was something in Sam's tone and expression that stopped Janet immediately objecting to being left with her latest question unanswered - it was the hint of concern, the wobble of confusion in her voice.  This wasn't Sam not wanting to answer, this was Sam not knowing how to answer....which, since this was a science question, meant that Sam knew how to answer, she just didn’t know if she could.

 

"Of course...." Janet was surprised at how much tension she felt leave her shoulders when she deliberately relaxed, having not realised how tense she'd suddenly become during her questioning.  "That wasn't why I was asking about the Rings anyway..."

 

"Oh?"

 

"Their plane is grounded in London due to fog...so I was wondering..."

 

"If we could use the Rings to bring their kit?" Sam leaned back in her chair and considered a point in the room somewhere above her wife's head.  "Don't see why not, depends what they're bringing...what are they bringing?"

 

"That's a question for Osgood I think," decided Janet, remembering that Max and Kate were still having their conference call with London.  "Which reminds me..."

 

"Mmm?"  Sam's mind had wandered to the problem of how they could actually help their UNIT colleagues given that the Daedalus was already on a very tight schedule for Monday's departure which ruled out their Goa'uld rings as they wouldn't be able to reposition the ship over London.  They did however have the Asgard transporters which, assuming they were back up again could work from the ship's current location but that would require the engines to be online and they were in the middle of their full service...but they did have a couple of Tel'taks around... "Sorry..."

 

"What do you know about the Ravens?"

 

* * *

  
  


“...and by maintaining good biosecurity…” 

 

Max leaned forwards and pressed the mute button on Kate’s Blackberry - whilst it didn’t actually mute Carfax’s droning, it did at least mean that the Ravenmaster couldn’t hear them.

 

“What?”  Sipping her cooled coffee, Kate looked at Max with barely concealed amusement, trying to be ‘Greyhound One’ rather than ‘Mum’ but not really succeeding.

 

“He’s still talking about the birds!”

 

“...which means implementing a vermin control protocol…”

 

“He’s the Ravenmaster…”

 

“But he’s talking about the birds, the actual birds…”  Max ran his hand over his head, unable to find the right words to convey his amazement at the situation.

 

“Of course.”  She put her coffee mug back on the coaster she’d found, not wanting to leave a mark on the wooden coffee table.  “Carfax is all about the corvids.  They’re his passion.”  Which, now she thought about it, wasn’t a sentence you expected to say all that often in life.  “Don’t worry, he’ll get to the others in a minute.”

 

“...although Raven Graphite would do a very good job…”

 

“But he’s been going for fifteen minutes.”  Max didn’t quite understand why she was listening to Carfax’s monologue that, as far as he could tell, was a verbatim read out of the DEFRA press release and guidance notes that hadn’t really changed since the first outbreak of avian ‘flu back in whenever.

 

“He’ll be finished in three.”  Kate leaned back in the sofa they were sitting on and crossed her legs at the knee, deciding that Max had just volunteered himself for hovering over the unmute button.  “And then we’ll talk about the others.”

 

“How do you know?”  There was something about the way she was looking at him that made Max realise she was enjoying herself, and instinct told him he was contributing to her good humour.   “Wait, he...you knew he was going to do this…”

 

“Talk about the actual corvids? Yes.”  Kate leaned forwards, making Max think she was about to start paying closer attention to the phone call, only for her to reach behind her and, cushion rearranged, lean back once more, more comfortable now her back was appropriately supported.  “This is Carfax.  He’s the Ravenmaster who  _ likes  _ the Ravens.”

 

“ **You** like the ravens!”

 

“It keeps Carfax happy…”  This time, when Kate moved it was because she was getting ready to reengage with the phone call, having heard the telltale shift in the elderly but exceptionally brilliant Ravenmaster’s voice that told her he was nearly finished assuring her that his beloved corvids were going to continue to be hale and hearty residents at the Tower for some time yet.  “Avian ‘flu outbreaks are to Carfax what the Daleks sailing down Oxford Street are to Troop.”  

 

She saw him start to understand - Carfax was having to face down one of the biggest threats he could imagine: the least she could do was let him talk himself into believing it was going to be fine.  

 

“Can you unmute us please?”  

 

“...and so the main Unkindness will be back at the Tower by Tuesday 0900, but in the meantime I assure you that Ravens Percy and Onyx will be closely monitored so that the on-site presence is maintained Ma’am.”

 

“Thank you Carfax.”  Kate leaned forwards just enough to be clearly audible through the small microphone.  “I think Captain Stewart’s just learning a new word.”

 

“He’s not the only one Ma’am,” came the rather tense sounding agreement from Colonel Walsh.  “I am unfamiliar with ‘Unkindness’.”  Colonel Walsh was too professional to outright ask what she wasn’t being told, but it was ‘unspoken’ loudly for Kate to hear.

 

“Don’t worry Maria, it’s not a code word you don’t know.”

 

“Ma’am?”

 

“It is the term of venery.”  Kate could picture all too clearly the elderly man, his blue braces dark against his white shirt and his hands pink and plump coming to rest on his stomach, looking all together rather too like a complacent and off-duty Father Christmas.  He wasn’t, far from it, but he was a man who had latterly come to dedicate his life to the Crown’s more unusual subjects and was remarkably good at it, earning him free passes for more than a couple behavioural quirks in the process as far as Kate was concerned, but only for a finite number of minutes.

 

“What Carfax is saying in a  _ particularly  _ Carfax way…” Kate heard the squeak of a chair as her warning to the Ravenmaster landed squarely on target - she didn’t mind his quirks as long as they stayed within the limits of her tolerance, limits that didn’t have quite the same lassitude at this precise moment in time as they might have say, on a wet Tuesday in November when London was too grey and gloomy for even the most ardent of megalomaniac space tourist.  “Is that ‘Unkindness’ is to Ravens as ‘flock’ is to sheep or ‘murmuration’ is to swallows.”

 

“The collective noun for ravens is Unkindness? Cool!”  Max was about to say something else about swallows when he caught Kate’s eye and changed his mind: while his Mum might be amused by his enthusiasm at this new piece of linguistic knowledge, Greyhound One wasn’t and he suspected that the Colonel probably agreed with Greyhound One rather than his Mum. 

 

“Indeed.  Thank you Captain.”  That, realised Max, was definitely not his mother speaking.

 

“Ma’am.”  He pulled himself into a less ‘civilian’ seated position and concentrated on his notepad, trying to look every inch the capable military adjutant and advisor he was currently supposed to be.

 

“What about the other ravens Carfax?  And I’m not talking about their avian flu risk,” qualified Kate, fairly confident he hadn’t been going to cover that topic again but not wanting to count her ravens before they were back at the Keep, so to speak.

 

“Yes Ma’am.”  Carfax, to Colonel Walsh’s amazement, dutifully sat up taller and, turning over the page in his notebook, cleared his throat and looked back up at the speakerphone microphone like a man transformed.  Gone was the genial, almost absent-minded grandfather sort and instead she was watching a calm and collected fellow officer provide a crisp status update to his superior.  “Raven Percy is on duty at the Tower currently.  As you know, Ravens Thomas, Gordon, Edward and Henry came into…”

 

“Season?” suggested Kate helpfully, knowing that it wasn’t the precise term for what they’d been experiencing but it would do as a euphemism and save a lot of time.

 

“Yes Ma’am.  Thomas, Gordon, Edward and Henry came into Season between dusk on Tuesday and dawn on Wednesday, and so left the Tower as per the protocol, along with Ravens Toby and Bertie.”

 

“How are they doing?”

 

“They Ma’am?” Carfax wasn’t sure which group of not-raven Ravens she was concerned about.

 

“Toby and Bertie.  Have the synthesised pheromones been needed this time?”  Kate was vaguely aware of Max fidgeting in such a way that probably meant he was lost, but she wasn’t going to backtrack just now - he and Maria, if they needed catching up, could be caught up afterwards.

 

“No Ma’am, they’re coping this time - the proximity to the Winter Solstice is helping.  We have a small stock of synthesised pheromones on standby and more are in production but at this time, none have been needed.”  In fact, if the reports from the Deputy Ravenmaster were to be believed, they could have left one of Toby or Bertie at the Tower given how things were progressing, but he refrained from speculating to Dr Stewart about that just now - Colonel Walsh could be impressively loud when she was displeased and was sat close enough to him that he doubted he’d be able to turn his hearing aid down in time.

 

“So they should be ready to return to the Tower during Thursday?”  Kate reached for her coffee mug, deciding that tepid coffee was going to be better than no coffee.  “And where are they this time?”

 

“Cornwall...and that depends Ma’am.”

 

“Depends?”  There was a sharper, more urgent quality to Kate’s voice that hadn’t been there before and which made everyone, Carfax included, sit up even straighter - this was never a good tone of voice to hear from Greyhound One.

 

“There, ah, there appears to be a paperwork SNAFU that we’re currently trying to solve Ma’am.”  Maria knew that Colonels probably weren’t supposed to wish that the ground would open up and swallow them to avoid having to explain the details to their superior, but that didn’t stop Colonels wishing it on occasion.

 

“Which is?”

 

“Due to the avian flu measures, we’re having to declare them as alien in order to secure exemptions under the DEFRA rules,” explained Carfax crisply, looking pointedly at Colonel Walsh, his expression clearly suggesting it was her turn to hold the live hand grenade.

 

Based on how Max was squirming, Kate had a strong suspicion she was supposed to really dislike what she was about to be told...

 

“Go on Colonel…”

 

* * *

  
  


“Osgood?”  Janet stopped just inside the kitchen door, hoping she wasn’t interrupting Osgood and Jenny at a critical point in the shopping list creation process.

 

“Is there a butcher we can order from?”  As she asked the question, Osgood took the opportunity to take off her glasses and give them a polish with a cleaning cloth she had in her trouser pocket, finding the world best viewed without a fine film of flour dust acting as a filter.

 

“Butcher?  I…” Janet looked over her shoulder at Sam, who was hovering just behind her as she tried to remember what shops there were downtown.

 

“What do you need Jenny?”  Sam stepped around her wife and headed for the sink where she started to rinse out her coffee mug, intent on a refill.

 

“It’s Vastra, not me…” While she was becoming much more at ease around Janet and Osgood, Jenny still found the tall blonde American woman made her nervous as she didn’t quite know what to make of her. 

 

“Blood.”  

 

Sam was glad that she’d not got as far as making herself a fresh mug of coffee as, despite all her years of alien experience, she still hadn’t been prepared for Osgood’s answer.

 

“The butcher’s boy delivers it in milk bottles for ‘er, every other day…’e sells it for blood puddin’ usually,” explained Jenny, finding it easier to talk to Janet who was looking thoughtful as she listened, not surprised about the request as Vastra had explained her dietary requirements quite matter-of-factly during her medical exam yesterday.

 

“Blood pudding?”  Sam looked at Osgood, hoping for some sort of translation.

 

“Black pudding…” Osgood put her now satisfactorily clean glasses back on, “...an acquired taste.”  Her facial expression made it quite clear to all that it wasn’t a taste she had acquired.

 

“Ah…”  Sam smiled in thanks at Osgood and returned to making her coffee, having even less idea than Janet as to whether there was a butcher in Colorado Springs that could help with this particular item, although she did at least now understand why it was unlikely that Walmart could deliver it.  “What about the Base?”

 

“Hmm?”  It took a moment for Janet to realise that both Osgood and Jenny had assumed that Sam was talking to her not them.  “What about the Base?  The Commissary doesn’t have a butcher’s shop...”

 

“I wasn’t thinking about the Commissary, I was thinking about the Mess Hall Kitchens.”  Sam saw that Janet understood what she was thinking and returned to making her coffee, sensing that Jenny would be more comfortable continuing this conversation with Janet.

 

“How much blood does the butcher’s boy deliver Jenny?”

 

“Two pints, every other day, but, uh, I think three’d be better here...”  Jenny really didn’t want to have to explain any further, but fortunately for her, Janet had remembered that she and Sam hadn’t actually come looking for Osgood in order to talk about butchers.

 

“No problem, I’m sure the Base kitchens can work out something for us.”  Smiling at Jenny, she then looked pointedly at Sam, subtly shifting her eyes towards Osgood, reminding her wife that this wasn’t what they’d come into the kitchen for.

 

“Right, yes, ah Osgood?”

 

“Yes?”  As she turned to look at Sam, Osgood reached forward and instinctively pressed the  ‘save shopping cart’ button on the web page, recognising that she and Jenny weren’t going to be finishing their grocery order for a few minutes - if it took longer than that she’d have to log out and see if Janet or Parker could help Jenny on another computer so they didn’t lose their delivery slot.

 

“Have you got a minute?”

 

“I’m going to go see what Vastra’s doin’,” declared Jenny, deciding she wasn’t needed for whatever it was that had brought Sam and Janet into the kitchen.  “She ain’t much of a folder.”  And, before anyone could do anything to either stop her or make her change her mind, Jenny had gone.

 

“Folding?”  Although it was Janet who managed to ask the question first, it was clear from her expression that Sam was just as confused.

 

“Jenny’s decided that she isn’t trusting the washing machine with the clothes that they brought with them and you don’t have a decent sink for doing hand washing in.  Once we’d sorted out the food order, we were going to look at clothes...Vastra’s taken a liking to fleece but the white…”

 

“She’s a bit bright,” agreed Janet, remembering the white clothes that the Base Stores had produced - perfect camouflage colour when mounting a mission in a snow covered landscape, but not exactly practical the rest of the time.  “And they do rather bring out her…”

 

“Green?” suggested Sam, amused by the conversation in a rather un-General-like way.

 

“Scales.”

 

“So Vastra went upstairs to sort amongst what they had brought for what she did want to wear and to put away what she didn’t, only, umm…” Osgood repositioned her glasses, not quite sure what else she could say.  Fortunately, judging from the looks on Janet and Sam’s faces, they understood what she wasn’t saying and, much to her relief, let the subject drop and returned to what their original purpose was.

 

“Your plane, that’s delayed.”

 

“Fog.  It’s going to come tomorrow instead.”

  
“What’s in the cargo?”  Sam hadn’t realised how unhelpfully vague her question had been until she saw Osgood frown and her eyes shutter slightly, reminding her that for all Osgood’s character and quirks she was neither naive nor green, but a Greyhound, just like Kate.  “Sorry, what I mean is…” Sam considered half a dozen ways she could ask the question and dismissed all of them as being liable to create more questions before deciding to just keep it nice and simple.  “...would it help if I lent you a space ship?”


	31. Ravens, Banshees and Pumpkin Spice

“...and I’m not impressed…” Kate looked up when she heard the door open, smiling and waving Osgood to come in.  “Osgood’s here…”  Kate saw Sam and Janet pausing in the doorway, sufficiently experienced to neither presume that they were going to be cleared to join Kate if the phone call wasn’t finished, nor would they be offended if they were about to be denied access to a part of their own house.  “And General Carter and Dr Fraiser…”  If Kate saw Max’s slight sag of relief that her mood had defrosted quite rapidly in the last ten seconds she elected to ignore it.

 

“What’s gone wrong?” Osgood, on the other hand, was neither unobservant nor known for tactfully ignoring things, especially when they were making Kate irritated.

 

“The ravens are fine,” Kate automatically raised her hand in the universal ‘I don’t want to hear it’ gesture, only to remember that Carfax wouldn’t be able to see her.  “Healthy, in some cases exceptionally happy and universally in the wrong place.  But assuming the tests come back clear on Monday, the Unkindness will be moved back to the Tower on Tuesday.  Thank you Carfax.”  Kate paused, waiting to see if Carfax was going to accept her summary or whether he was going to push his luck.

 

“Yes Ma’am.”

 

“Thank you Carfax.”

 

“Ma’am.” The speed with which he gathered up his papers and escaped would have been comical were Maria Walsh not sitting wishing she could have joined him.  Greyhound One grumpy was no less pleasant when she was several thousand miles away than in person.

 

“You can relax Maria….” Kate’s voice contained rather more humour in it than the Colonel had expected, but fortunately her frown wasn’t audible.  “Osgood’s looking excited.”

 

Osgood sneezed.

 

Twice.

 

Just as she was about to sneeze a third time, Kate realised what the problem might be and carefully removed the cushion she’d pushed behind her back and put it on the floor next to her feet, hoping she didn’t accidentally squash it in the process.

 

“Duck feathers?” asked Janet, looking at Osgood who nodded while glaring at the end of her nose, as if daring it to sneeze without her permission again.  “Sorry…”  Putting her guest’s medical needs first, Janet quickly collected two of the three small cushions that she’d scattered across the upholstered furniture this morning, houseguests having finally reminded her that the covers had come back from the dry cleaners weeks ago, as Sam snagged the cushion Kate had put on the floor.   Considering the room for a moment, Janet put all three on the bench seat in the window, correctly judging that Osgood wouldn’t be electing to sit somewhere which had her back resting against the icy cold glass of the window.

 

“Thanks, sorry…” She repositioned her glasses and looked in the direction of Kate’s Blackberry, hoping she was near enough for Maria to hear her.  “What’s the situation?”

 

“The, uh, other ravens….”  Maria Walsh was trying to choose her words carefully, not being entirely clear either how much detail she should provide or to what degree the Americans were already cleared and briefed.

 

“Mechatronic or alien?” asked Osgood, deciding that her glasses needed another clean and so completely missing both the look on Janet’s face and Sam’s mouthed response which Max was fairly certain had been ‘told you, different kind of aliens’.

 

“Alien.  Although the targeting sensors on the mechatronic ones are in need of calibration.”  Maria cleared her throat, wondering whether either Greyhound would take advantage of the opportunity to take over the explanation from her.

 

They didn’t.

 

“Six are currently in Cornwall but should be fit to return to active duty on Thursday.”  She wondered if Osgood was interested in what the status of the seventh not-a-corvid Raven was.

 

“Percy’s remained at the Tower,” volunteered Kate, taking the opportunity to stand up and stretch her legs and taking the decision for the Colonel.

 

“Just Percy?”  Osgood frowned as she put her glasses back on - that was leaving them incredibly exposed.  “Oh, of course.”  She nodded sharply, evidently content with the update she’d just given herself.

 

“Osgood…” Kate’s voice carried with it a hint of steel in it that reminded everyone else that she was still not quite as laid back as she looked, but it was mild by comparison to what she had been sounding like before Osgood had appeared.  “...explain?”

 

“The, ah…” Osgood glanced in the direction of Janet and Sam and then chose her words with extreme care.  “...incident involving Captain Carter’s samples?”  She saw both Kate and Max nod in understanding as to what she was talking about and knew that it was something Maria Walsh was fairly convinced she’d remember for a good long while yet - orange semi-sentient flames were hard to forget and not something UNIT were in a particular rush to share with anyone.  “Microbiology Store Four had to go through the full decontamination protocol…”  She saw Kate had made the connection before she’d finished saying ‘microbiology’ but continued for Max and Maria’s benefit.  “...and the synthetic pheromone stock was destroyed due to contamination.  It’s being replenished, but it takes time.”

 

“Which explains 6 offsite not 5,” agreed Kate, smiling her thanks at Osgood before looking towards the phone so she felt like she was talking ‘to’ Maria.  “And something I should have remembered, sorry Maria.”

 

“No problem Ma’am.”  It was well above Maria’s paygrade to point out to Kate Stewart that she wasn’t expected to be a walking encyclopaedia on absolutely every last detail about everything, so she carried on with her update to Osgood who, realised Maria as a side note, actually was a walking encyclopaedia on absolutely every last detail about everything, or at least the one or two percent of things Kate Stewart temporarily forgot.  “We’re currently unclear how to get them back to the Tower…”

 

“Why?”

 

“Paperwork.”  This time, Osgood saw the look that Janet and Sam shared and she smiled, remembering the conversations they’d had on the Base yesterday, earning her a dirty look from Kate who grumbled, “it’s not funny.  It’s the boring Whitehall sort.”

 

“Oh.”  Osgood didn’t like to say that she found that hard to believe - Fran, Kate’s PA had transferred to the Tower from the MoD with something of a legendary reputation for being able to work miracles in triplicate, a reputation that she’d quickly demonstrated was well founded.  “What’s the problem?”

 

“Maria was just about to tell me when you joined us.”

 

“Uh, should we be outside?” asked Sam in a loud whisper, knowing it was highly unlikely that Janet’s and her presence in the conversation was being overlooked by UNIT but feeling she should be offering anyway - normally, she’d have been high-tailing it out of any discussion about other people’s admin troubles since she had more than enough problems to deal with in her own job, but this was different: this was fascinating and both she and Janet were relieved when Kate waved them to both stay, gesturing that they’d be finished with the call in a minute or two.

 

“There’s an accreditation issue that’s...still not fully resolved from the, ah…” Maria tried to work out what a suitably delicate summary might be.  “...Banshee incident.”

 

“I thought we’d sorted out most of those.”  Kate had not been impressed when they’d discovered the full extent of their difficulties in that area, but only General Bambera knew quite how angry she’d been that Osgood had ended up on yet another plane with a potentially homicidal alien.  

 

Neither Sam nor Janet had any idea what ‘the Banshee Incident’ might be, but clearly it was not something either Kate or Osgood looked back on fondly as Kate’s foot started to tap and Osgood, having adjusted and readjusted her scarf, started to polish her glasses again, deciding that streak on the left lens might yield if she polished in a circular motion.  To paraphrase Oscar Wilde, being on a plane in flight with a homicidal alien once was unfortunate, twice was careless and that was not counting the plane ‘Bonnie’ blew up, as technically the homicidal alien was ground-based not airborne: even when angry Kate had a strong preference for accuracy and precision.

 

“We have, had made some progress - you are no longer the solely authorised representative…”  Maria cleared her throat, wondering whether she could claim hazard pay for this phone call, “...but no one considered what would happen if we had no Greyhounds available.”

 

“No, we’re both here…”  Kate looked at Osgood, wondering what miracle they would be able to work to sort out this puzzle.

 

“Now might be a good time to ask your question Sam…” suggested Osgood, putting on her glasses and grinning at Kate, her good humour rapidly returning now they were no longer dwelling on exploding aeroplanes.

 

“Oh?”  Kate looked at Sam and saw a look in the blonde’s eye she recognised - it was the same look that she’d seen yesterday when River Song had been making mischief - it was the look of a Brigadier General enjoying herself.

 

“Would it help if I lent you a space ship?”

 

There was a long, deafening silence that Janet was reasonably confident a dropping pin wouldn’t dare to break as everyone in the room watched Kate Stewart who, like the best of leaders, managed to remain completely at ease as she looked nowhere in particular, thinking.  After what felt like an age but was merely a few seconds, with hands shoved in her trouser pockets and her head canted slightly to one side, Kate shattered the silence in a way that was uniquely hers.

 

“Does it come with unlimited mileage?”

 

Janet hadn’t realised she’d groaned so loudly until everyone was looking at her, clearly hoping for an explanation, although if they’d looked at Sam and Kate instead of her she wouldn’t have needed to bother: it was clear from their expressions - they were both having fun, something that Command didn’t often give them.

 

“I’ve always wanted to see the Crown Jewels…” said Janet finally, not entirely sure if she was joking or serious.

 

“The Phoebe Ring would be fascinating…” added Osgood quietly, her eyes sparkling behind her now extra clean glasses as she continued to murmur to herself, presumably about it and missed Kate’s look of total bafflement: there wasn’t a ring called Phoebe in the Crown Jewels.

 

“Saturn’s moon…” volunteered Sam, nodding in agreement with Osgood’s assessment and providing the missing link for Kate - she’d remembered Osgood’s excitement over the years as new sets of data and analysis were released by NASA about Saturn, with this large ring of tiny particles fascinating Osgood.  “What about you Kate?”

 

“What about me?”

 

“Anything you’d like to see?”  It wasn’t often that Sam missed being a member of SG1 these days - loathe as she would be to admit it to anyone, the years were starting to catch up with her and she was quite happy to leave the sleeping rough on a hostile planet to others.   Nevertheless, she did miss Space with a capital S, missed being able to see the stars because she was in the stars.  While ordinarily she was too diligent an officer and commander to even consider ‘borrowing’ one of the assorted space-flight capable ‘planes’ and ‘ships’ she technically had at her disposal, this was different….this was too good an opportunity to pass up.  “Within the Solar System at least.”  The paperwork for ‘borrowing’ something capable of further distances meant that it would be a waste to not then go somewhere more….distant, at which point the paperwork… Sam’s thoughts actually stopped at that point, unwilling to even attempt to imagine what they’d have to write up and sign off, even if having UNIT involved did mean it automatically became so classified that no one would ever actually be able to read it, including her and Kate.

 

“The greenhouse…” Kate smiled when she heard a decidedly ‘Mu-um’ sounding groan from Max.  “Captain Stewart can have my pick,” she continued, seeing Max’s eyes widen and his jaw drop. “As long as he has the Colonel’s permission and promises not to brag about it to his brother.”

 

“Permission granted…”  Maria Walsh had thought they’d forgotten about her but agreed promptly, sensing now was not the moment to experiment with her ability to override a Greyhound One decision, especially since she still had very little idea what was going on.

 

“Tip top.”  Kate winked at Max before looking back at Sam.  “Is there room for the Colonel?”

 

* * *

  


"Strax?"  
  
"Yes Mr Parker?"  Strax paused, perfectly steady, a rather large and firm snowball in his right hand which he'd extended behind his head, ready to hurl into the empty crate that Parker had found for them to use as harmless target practice.   
  
"Ceasefire mate..."     
  
Obediently, Strax brought his arm down but was clearly not happy with this request, as he proceeded to kick up little puffs of snow, muttering to it about being 'weak, feeble and lazy' which, as far as Parker could tell, was because it had refused to form its own snowballs.  Parker was just grateful that the whole ‘sentient snow’ incident had happened while he'd been on leave back in the 21st century and so, for him at least, snow was still just cold and wet.   
  
"Can I help you?" asked Parker, emerging from behind the cars and walking up to the bloke that was stood in a brown uniform holding a pile of mail and squinting at something.  He just about remembered to not expect Victorian courtesies, glad that he was fairly well 'camouflaged' in the UNIT field uniform of all black that he'd managed to cobble together from the small mountain of kit Max had apparently brought with him: he doubted wearing his coachman’s top hat would have helped the conversation.   
  
"Packages..."  Not as well dressed for the elements, the delivery driver shoved the stack of brown paper packets at Parker's chest and, his hands free, whipped out his handheld tablet and started tapping.  "Need you to sign..." He thrust the handheld at Parker with a broken biro.  Deciding that calling for Strax to come and collect the mail was probably not going to improve the situation, Parker managed to juggle the packets into a stack that he could hold balanced on one hand while he caught the broken pen with his other and obediently scratched some sort of mark next to where the delivery man's finger was pointing.   
  
"Gimme the pen..." grumbled the delivery driver as he snatched the bit of plastic from Parker who just about managed to refrain from making a comment, although it was very tempting to invite him to get within tongue striking range of Madame Vastra.  Instead, he just watched the man get back into his van and, after executing an overly aggressive three point turn set off back down the Carter-Fraiser driveway.   
  
"Have a nice day to you too..." muttered Parker, finally giving into the urge to react once the delivery van was safely out of range of Strax's snowball throwing range.   
  
"Don't mumble Mr Parker, unless you are experiencing a throat irritation in which case I will prepare a linctus to be taken with hot water.  Have you a muffler?"  This was Strax's most recently learned Victorian word, and he was rather proudly using it at every available opportunity.   
  
"My throat is fine Strax, thank you."  Parker set off back towards the house, looking at the topmost package which, much to his surprise, he recognised despite it being addressed to Dr Fraiser.  "That was the mail..."  He moved the top one to the bottom of the pile and saw that it was the same, this time addressed to General Carter.... a quick shuffle of the stack, something he suddenly realised he was perhaps supposed to have done before signing for all of them, told him that they were all addressed to either Dr Fraiser or General Carter, yet all of them were from the Tower.   
  
"Then it is time for morning coffee."  Strax tossed his snowball aside, completely unaware that he'd dented the side panel of one of the SVUs they'd borrowed from the SGC - he never did know his own strength when it came to throwing things, which is why he now had to go to Glasgow for a decent fight.  "This is not a surrender, snow, but a short delay before your final defeat on the glorious field of battle by the mighty Sontaran Empire."  His gaze caught sight of a dripping icicle that had formed on the roof gable over night and, currently warmed by the strengthening morning sun, was starting to drip as it melted.  "Crying will not alter your fate, snow..."   
  
"It's melting Strax..." Parker had spoken before really thinking, only to distract Strax from what he'd just said by stamping his feet firmly on the decking outside the side door that they were using, not wanting to track lots of snow into their hostesses' kitchen.   
  
"Mr Parker?"   
  
"Yes Strax?"   
  
"That is not going to help your feet warm up."   
  
"No Strax, but it stops the..." he was about to say 'puddles' but then remembered yesterday's rather more adventurous transit through the Stargate, "...Splasheymen infiltrating the kitchen."   
  
"A sensible battle precaution Mr Parker."  And, with a little bobbing bow that spoke more to his recent career as a butler than as a Sontaran Warrior, Strax proceeded to stamp his feet with great vigour until he had snow free boots.  Stepping forwards onto the doormat, he turned and surveyed the little heap of snow that he'd generated.  "A cunning tactic but you have been defeated on this glorious field of battle known as..."  Strax stopped and stared firmly just beyond the end of his nose, desperately trying to remember where here was, "...not Glasgow."  

 

* * *

 

“...if I’d wanted pumpkin spice mix I’d have selected it…” grumbled Janet, clicking through the latest webpage trying to tempt her into adding to their already rather huge online grocery order that, after a few last minute changes, was finally finished.

 

“Pumpkin spice?”  Jenny’s face was appropriately expressive and conveyed her mixture of confusion based on her existing understanding of those two types of edible and disgust at the idea of the resultant flavour.  “What you supposed to do w’ it?”

 

“Ruin a decent cup of coffee,” suggested Janet at exactly the same time as Max said ‘Improve a bad cup of coffee,’ which not only left Jenny even more confused but forced her to look to Osgood as her final arbiter of all things contemporary, American or just plain strange.

 

“It’s a flavour combination of spices and pumpkin that is apparently the quintessential Autumn flavour if you’re American…”  Osgood repositioned her glasses and took the opportunity to shoot a ‘stop talking, we’re at work’ look to Max before continuing with her explanation.  “It is particularly associated with a…”  Osgood paused and tried to work out her chronology, not wanting to make something confusing even more confusing due to ‘spoilers’ as River Song would say, “...have you seen the tea house on Piccadilly?”

 

“The Lyons one?”  Jenny’s eyes widened and she grinned when Osgood nodded.  “Vastra took me for my birthday...very odd, being ‘out’ for tea…”

 

It was Janet’s turn to look confused, not understanding the significance of the emphasis of ‘out’ in that statement.

 

“Tea is taken either at home or at someone else’s home Ma’am.”  Parker, having seen that they’d been trying to finish the grocery order when he’d come in from snowballing with Strax and had quietly occupied himself with doing the washing up, managed to untangle that confusion first.  “To take ‘tea’ in a commercial premises rather than someone’s house is…” He shrugged in what was suddenly a very non-Victorian gesture as his ‘native’ behaviour reasserted itself.  “Random, Ma’am.”  He was just glad that Strax had headed back upstairs to change - he was of the opinion he needed dry clothes in order to prepare morning coffee.

 

“I see…”  Janet smiled at him in thanks and then at Jenny in encouragement for her to continue with her answer to Osgood’s original question.

 

“It were odd, but alright…”  Jenny leaned forwards, as if about to share a great secret.  “Scones were ‘eavy mind, but it were sweet o’ Vastra.”

 

There was a contented pause as everyone reflected with happy memories from yesterday about the quality of Jenny’s scones - it was easy to believe that she’d been less than impressed with a commercial scone.

 

“‘Ave they been popular then?” asked Jenny eventually, bringing them back to the original point.

 

“Yes, but now with coffee as the main drink.  Anyway…”  Osgood checked that her bowtie was in good order and continued her original explanation.  “...one of these coffee places decided to add the pumpkin spice flavour to milky coffee...it’s…” she was about to say that had a ‘marmite’ quality but stopped herself, uncertain if that was something universally understood by both Victorian and American.  “...something of an acquired taste.”

 

“Can you get some?  Please?”  Confused, but happy to order the small bottle of pumpkin spice syrup mix, Janet waited for some further explanation from Jenny.  “Vastra might like it...she’s, well, things taste a bit different to her…”  Which, thought Jenny, was perhaps one of her more dramatic understatements.

 

“Right…”  Janet clicked where necessary and started the long drawn out process of checking out their rather mammoth ‘basket’, her eyes widening when she saw the total.  “Are you sure about this?” she asked, looking at Osgood who had returned to whatever it was that she’d been thoroughly absorbed in on her tablet.  “Osgood?”

 

“Hmm?”  Osgood looked at Janet and then at the angled laptop screen.  “That’s fine,” she agreed, not remotely fazed by the amount - large as it was, she knew it would barely scratch the expenses allowances Geneva authorised for any international assignment, never mind what happened when it was something international and involving the Doctor.  To say he was prone to being expensive when it came to totalling up repairs and restoration of property costs after one of his visits was akin to describing Kate’s office walls as being ‘a bit sparkly’.  “Everything should be already set up…” she added, knowing that while they’d been flying from London to Colorado Geneva had set to work and, by the time they’d landed they had a full set of everything they might need all ready to be used in America, from online shopping accounts to credit cards, concealed weapons permits and diplomatic credentials, as well as sets ready to be used by Vastra, Jenny, Strax, River and the Doctor, should it be necessary.  “When’s it being delivered?”

 

“Two hours, collection from the store downtown…”  Janet thought for a minute.  “We might need a couple of SUVs…”

 

“I’m sure I can get some of the lads to fetch and carry,” decided Max, taking the hint before Janet had been able to finish dropping the hint.  She’d actually intended to volunteer some of the SGC security personnel that had joined the members of Troop in attempting to ‘blend in’ to the garden in what was a fairly relaxed joint implementation of some rather strict security protocols that applied individually to both Kate and Sam.

 

“Are we relocating?” Vastra’s hearing meant although she’d only just appeared in the doorway when Max had finished speaking, she had already heard him volunteering to provide portering services.   She also remembered Mr Parker explaining as they left the SGC that it was acceptable to substitute ‘SVU’ for ‘carriage’ as the effect was the same - it was the means to get from one place to another, so had been able to comprehend Janet’s comment, although she would require further information to properly determine whether ‘downtown’ was subterranean or not.  Instinct however made her think not.

 

“No delivery boys ‘ere…” said Jenny promptly, grinning at her wife who was looking very at ease in her borrowed clothes.  The combination of the house’s central heating and the fleece material helped Vastra maintain a comfortable body temperature, so comfortable that she was actually displaying rather more of her scales than Jenny was used to...which wasn’t to say that Vastra was showing any more of herself than anyone else, but Jenny was so used to seeing her wife wearing the long skirts and high necks of the Victorian Widow’s wardrobe as much for warmth as decorum that to be able to see the scales of her wife’s forearms and neck was, well, a very pleasant bonus to this adventure of the Doctor’s that they were on.

 

“Very progressive…” observed Vastra dryly before holding up the book she was carrying and which was clearly the purpose of her visit to into the kitchen.  “Do you have any objection to my reading this book?”  Rather stiffly, remembering the little lecture Jenny had given her while they’d been sorting clothes after breakfast about this being Janet and Samantha’s house not Kate’s nor her own, Vastra was trying to do her best at adhering to social conventions.  “I assume it is yours from the subject matter…”  Except, she realised, reading the cover of the book more closely, that wasn’t strictly accurate.  “That is, it was acquired by you not Samantha, given its scientific focus is primarily biological…”  She looked up again, smiling when her sharp Silurian hearing picked up the sounds of Strax’s heavy tread following the lighter but equally distinctive steps of Kate and Samantha coming in their direction.

 

“Yes...I mean of course, you’re right…” Janet had to smile at the positively regal dip of Vastra’s head at that - the ‘Great Detective’ evidently didn’t often entertain the notion that she wouldn’t be anything other than right.  “It is my book and you are most welcome to read it Vastra.”

 

“Thank you.”  Vastra opened the front cover and saw the blank page.  “You should ask her to autograph this for you…” Janet’s expression changed and Vastra found herself uncertain what was the cause of the physician’s confusion before deciding it had to be the idea of autographing something.  “Is that no longer fashionable?  To have the author of a work inscribe the frontispiece with a handwritten dedication to the owner?  Curious…”

 

“What’s curious Vastra?”  Kate glanced with only polite curiosity in Vastra’s direction, immediately more interested in getting another cup of coffee and seeing what had kept Osgood so absorbed once they’d finished the phone call with Colonel Walsh.

 

“The practice of Autographing no longer being fashionable…”

 

“Still is...isn’t it?”  Kate looked to Max who nodded, knowing she was thinking of the signed Star Wars poster she’d got him for his birthday one year.

 

“Oh.”  Vastra looked at Janet who was still displaying what, to Vastra, looked like a fairly clear example of a confused ape expression.  “My apologies Janet, I am not very good at interpreting ape facial expressions…”  It was testament to Janet’s long years at the SGC that she didn’t react to being called an ‘ape’ and Sam, arriving just in time to hear her wife being indirectly called an ape, merely blinked and bit her lip. “...I thought you did not understand what I was suggesting from your expression.”

 

“No, yes…”  Still very confused, Janet held up her hand in the universally understood ‘nobody interrupt’ gesture while she tried to order her thoughts.  “You are correct Vastra, I was, am confused because I didn’t understand your suggestion, but not because I don’t know what autographing is…”

 

“Then what is confusing about my suggestion?”

 

“I…” Janet held out her hand this time to request that Vastra pass her the book that had originally started this whole muddle.  “Thank you.  I didn’t understand who you meant I should be asking to autograph this book…”  Janet looked at the glossy black cover with the simple blue lettering and diagrammatic representation of the DNA double helix that was instantly recognisable as one of her ‘go to’ texts when it came to understanding how genetic predisposition to immunological resistance and susceptibilities might be identified or inferred, something that was scientifically in its infancy when it came to Earth-based human biology but was a key element of her work with understanding alien biologies and their compatibility or lack of with human medicines and diseases.

 

“My apologies…” Vastra bowed her head slightly to Janet, thinking she now understood the problem she had caused, before turning and adding, “...I did not realise it was a secret Kate.”

  
“Mmm?”  Not having paid attention to their conversation, Kate concentrated on finishing filling up her mug with coffee before looking over her shoulder in the direction Vastra, catching sight of the book Janet was holding.  “Ah.  It’s not…”  Mug now filled with fresh coffee, Kate leaned back against the kitchen worktop and cradled the warming mug with both hands, the steam rising past the tip of her nose.  “But Janet probably doesn’t know that I’m the K Lethbridge Stewart that wrote that book.”  Kate took a careful sip of her too hot coffee before adding in what was now a lengthening silence.  “It was a long time ago…is that the one with the blue lettering?”  Janet nodded, her jaw slack in speechlessness.  “Ah.  There’s been two revisions since then - I’ll get you an updated copy if you would like?”


	32. Surprises are not just Sontaran

“I…”  Janet was dumbstruck, not quite able to believe what she was hearing.

 

“Jan?”  Sam walked over to her wife and carefully extracted the book from slack fingers, knowing that the well thumbed copy probably wouldn’t cope well if it was dropped to the floor.

 

“That’s…”  Still somewhat stuck for words while she digested the enormity of what she was just learning, she looked at Sam, then to Kate, then reached to reclaim the book Sam was about to put down on the table.  “I…”

 

“Apparently,” agreed Sam, trying not to look like she was taking Janet’s unexpected moment of star-struckness in anything other than an extremely considerate and respectful fashion.

 

“She alright?” asked Jenny, wondering what she should do to help - from what she’d learned about these women she’d come to the conclusion that aside from Janet they were about as bad at taking care of themselves as Vastra - didn’t mean they weren’t brilliant at science stuff, but she wouldn’t want to rely on any of them knowing what to do with a hot iron or bake.  By the looks of things, Janet seemed more likely to need a cup of tea and a cake than something scientific solved.

 

“Just rather surprised,” reassured Osgood kindly, adjusting her glasses as she considered what must have happened, since she’d not really being paying attention to what had been happening, still absorbed with the report she’d been reading for most of the morning on her tablet.  “Which is actually a surprise, when you think about it.”

 

“It is?”  Vastra looked at Osgood with interest, having not considered that.  “The surprised reaction is the surprise?”  While it was obliging of Osgood to nod, presumably confirming that Vastra had correctly rearticulated her statement, it did not advance Vastra’s understanding of the original statement.  “Explain.”

 

Osgood blinked.

 

Jenny coughed pointedly.

 

Kate sipped her coffee and grimaced, discovering it tasted as bad hot as it had done tepid, only now it was even more disappointing.  Looking out of the window in the hope that her hostesses wouldn’t see her poorly concealed grimacing, she spotted Max walking out across the garden, presumably continuing his rounds or whatever it was he did to keep the military side of UNIT in good order.

 

“Please.”  Vastra was not in the habit of coping well with being reminded of the need for manners in the opinion of apes, but she managed to refrain from saying as much when Jenny’s foot landed sharply on her own, a timely reminder that she had indeed promised to ‘be nice’.

 

“I think what Osgood’s trying to say Vastra…” Kate deliberately attracted Vastra’s gaze with a slightly patronising tone, deciding she didn’t entirely appreciate the Silurian’s stare being directed at Osgood in quite that way - it wouldn’t take much more of that sort of scrutiny before Osgood’s lungs decided they were twitchy, a twitchiness that Kate knew would be difficult for her girlfriend to breathe through given the higher altitude in the mountains was proving to be challenging.  “...is that for someone who’s used to dealing with all manner of alien things on a day-to-day basis and managed to cope with River Song making a pass at her wife…” There was a brief pause as Kate regretted reminding herself of that whole gate room interlude, Vastra growled and hissed in a way that conveyed her feelings about River Song’s penchant yesterday for other people’s wives, Sam’s ears went pink and Osgood?  “Inhaler Os…”  Kate waited until she’d seen that Os had an inhaler in her pocket before resuming her explanation for Vastra.  “Where was I...anyway, given everything Janet has been witness to in the last twenty four hours or so, the surprise is that it took discovering I’m the K Lethbridge-Stewart who wrote that particular book to render her speechless.”

 

“I see.”  Vastra considered this for a moment.  “The straw that broke the donkey’s back.”

 

“Hardly flattering, but yes…”  Despite knowing it was disappointing, Kate took another sip of her coffee in an attempt to not fall further down this conversational rabbit hole of a tangent.

 

“I do not…” Vastra held no such qualms it seemed, but was unable to finish whatever it was she was about to say next as, now wearing a dry set of black pin-striped trousers and his cutaway tailcoat, Strax came into the kitchen and thrust his silver tray, which he had brought with him from Paternoster Row, in front of Madame Vastra’s face.

 

“The Mail.”

 

“Thank you Strax.”  Vastra picked up the thick envelopes that were stacked neatly on the silver tray he’d brought with him from Paternoster Row and considered the addresses.  “But this is not for me.”    She put them back on the tray and nodded in the direction of the rightful recipients of the mail.  “These are for General Carter and Doctor Fraiser.”   Unfortunately, Strax failed to notice the nod, nor associate it with anyone in the room as he’d been distracted by a dripping icicle that he could see through the window.  Were there more Splasheymen spies trying to infiltrate this house?

 

“General Carter and Doctor Fraiser?” He was confused, but on a rather larger scale than just not ever having realised that it was possible to look on the envelop to see who a letter or package was intended for.  “But The Mail surrenders to you!”

 

“That..”  Vastra took a calming breathe, discovering that she had more patience than usual when it came to Strax’s confusions.  “...is the London Mail.”  It wasn’t entirely his fault that she didn’t have much patience with him at times when they were in Paternoster Row - she was never on good terms with anyone if she was sat in a cold draught, although if he could remember to close doors behind him there would be fewer draughts.  

 

“A new enemy that must be defeated!”  In this house however, it did not seem to matter if Strax left the door open or not - the combination of the central heating, modern building techniques and her borrowed fleece lined clothes were keeping Vastra pleasantly warm and, rather fortuitously, extra patient.  

 

“This is the American Mail.”  She decided that the likelihood of him finding himself performing the duties of a butler in another home in America was sufficiently remote that she did not need to try to teach him where exactly he was in America.

 

“American Mail!”  It took Vastra a moment to realise that Strax was no longer talking to her, but was instead addressing his tray.  “You will surrender to…”  Strax had forgotten what Madame Vastra had said they were called, but Mr Parker was pointing towards two of the ‘boys’ he’d only met since defeating the Splasheymen the first time so decided that was who she must have meant.  And one of them was Colonel Doctor, who had known how to properly care for Sontaran feet.  The other one...no, he couldn’t remember what their designation was, but their head was a long way above his.  “...Tall Boy and Colonel Doctor for the glory of your clone batch.” 

 

He gave the tray a surprisingly delicate shake, making the envelopes shift about a bit on the tray, like he was trying to provoke them into objecting or worse, escaping.  

 

“Your feeble attempt at escape are an embarrassment to your species and are an insult to your opponent.”  He made strange sound which might have been an attempt at a chuckle, although it sounded more like a hiccup, before adding quietly, “but since I have already foiled the Splasheymen’s plan to infiltrate this planet twice this morning and am monitoring their latest pitiful attempt you are forgiven.” Looking around the kitchen, he saw that the Colonel Doctor was sat at the other end of the table but the Tall Boy stood next to the Brigadier.  He therefore he had to go to one before the other as they were not together.  This, he reminded himself, was why good Sontaran leaders only came in ones.  Feeling assured about the continued brilliance of the great Sontaran Empire, Strax realised he was however still confused as to how to sort out this problem.  Just when he was wondering what to do, he remembered that he had seen someone else and turned to address them, confident once more.  Everything would make sense now.

 

“Brigadier?”

 

It took everyone a moment to realise Strax was actually addressing Kate, including Kate.

 

“Yes Commander?”

 

“Is Colonel Doctor in command of Tall Boy?”  Strax was only really comfortable thinking about others in rank hierarchies, like he had been told to think when still with his clone batch.  Then it had been sensible and tidy - short Sontarans were the most victorious on the glorious field of battle.  Even now, when on the planet London, he knew that ‘Madame’ was the highest rank but, like all good Sontarans, he also knew a field commander when they were ordered by anyone which was why he generally did exactly what Jenny told him to do.  Also, she was short which was good for Commanding.  But on this American planet, it was confusing.  “Or should The American Mail surrender first to Tall Boy?”  The very best at Commanding, so he and his clone batch had been told, knew to never trust an enemy’s surrender until they had sent loyal Sontaran warriors to make sure.  This was a high honour and gave great opportunities for a warrior to die on the glorious field of battle...but then no one had ever successfully managed to explain the idea of a ‘sacrificial lamb’ to a Sontaran.  Since Colonel Doctor knew how to look after Sontaran feet, Colonel Doctor was clearly experienced at Commanding.

 

“Try calling ‘Tall Boy’ ‘General Sam’ Strax,” suggested Kate, thinking quickly about who else Strax knew to call by the rank of ‘General’ and whether he was more likely to be around Sam Carter when her first name or surname was being used.  She didn’t think Sam would mind - surely any variant of her rank and name would be preferable to ‘tall boy’.

 

“Yes Brigadier.”  Strax’s head bobbed in understanding - this was why he liked the Brigadier: planets made sense to him if the Brigadier explained them.  He didn’t know what a ‘Sam’ was, but Generals were in charge of Colonels, even short ones.  

 

“The Mail will surrender to General Sam.”  A General could decide if the surrendered Mail could be trusted.  Pleased that he knew what to do now, Strax was about to resume his mail delivery when he remembered there was something else he had wanted to ask the Brigadier.  “Brigadier?”

 

“Yes Commander?”  

 

“What is an Os-good?”  That was not what Kate was expecting him to ask and for a moment or two she was genuinely lost as to how to respond.  Unfortunately, Strax interpreted her silence to mean that he had spoken about something that he shouldn’t have, which to Strax’s mind, meant he’d drawn attention to an enemy.  “Should I defeat it?”  He looked down at his tray.  “The American Mail surrendered easily.  I do not have my laser cannon but I could use grenades?”  He looked hopefully at her.  “They are clean and polished Brigadier.”  He knew better than to suggest an acid trap - he always got in trouble for those.  And he had no acid - it was back in Paternoster Row, next to his laser cannon.

 

“I…”  Kate glanced quickly around the kitchen, unsurprised to see Osgood looking rather alarmed and in the process of readying her inhaler for another puff, understanding that this was not the sort of idle conversational threat that Strax usually made.  Somehow she was also not that surprised to see both Sam and Vastra looking far more amused given the sudden severity.   She was self aware enough to recognise that another kamikaze alien confusing someone else’s partner with their mortal enemy would probably be amusing, especially if you didn’t understand Strax’s history with ‘the Brigadier’ or that, unlike his other random requests to kill things, this one was rather more serious but it still irritated her.  “...Thank you for your offer…” Kate saw Osgood’s eyes widen at the same time as Strax started to turn, clearly believing he’d been ordered to go and get his grenades although Parker seemed ready to tackle him if he were to actually try.  “BUT…” She waited, watching him closely until she’d seen his shoulders slump - Strax was very, very familiar with what happened when she said ‘but’ like that, and it never involved him being allowed to use his grenades.  “Osgood is…”  Kate wracked her brain for what was the appropriately concise way of warning Strax against ever considering action against Osgood again.  “...one of my clone batch.”

 

“Sorry Brigadier.”  He bobbed again, the letters almost sliding off the tray but he tilted it at the last moment to keep them from falling.  “I accept my punishment.” He frowned, staring at that point just past his nose that meant he was thinking extra hard, before looking up at Kate again, hopeful.  “What is my punishment Brigadier?”

 

“That, Commander,” said Kate magnanimously, deciding Vastra had been enjoying herself far too much in the last couple of minutes, “is something I will have to think about.  Until then please follow Madame Vastra’s directions.”  Was it childish of her to get a sense of satisfaction from seeing the Silurian’s smile wiped straight off her face?  Was it a stretch of the imagination or did her scales go a slightly paler shade of green?  Kate decided that the answer to both these questions was ‘no’.  “But first, please take the mail to General Sam and then the Colonel Doctor.”

 

“Yes Brigadier.”  Duly chastened, Strax plodded around the kitchen table, straightening the chairs as he went, little silver tray held stiffly in front of him: the perfect mix of repentant Commander and proud Victorian Butler.

 

“Kate?”

 

“Yes Janet?”

 

“Medicinal brandy for you and Osgood’s in the study, Doctor’s orders.”  She might have no clue what was  going on, and be still in a state of shock from her discovery that Kate was to a lot of her work at the SGC as Newton and Einstein were to Sam, but she was still a doctor and she could still diagnose when a tot of something would help settle nerves and serve as a means of escape.

 

“Thanks.  Os?”  Grateful for the escape route, Kate guided Osgood out of the kitchen, content to leave the problem of Strax to Vastra for the moment.

 

* * *

  
  


At the door to the study, they met Max who had just come in from doing his quick inspection tour of the combined UNIT and SGC on site teams with his Marine Corps counterpart who had just arrived from the Base.  Not liking the particular shade of grey Osgood’s face was, nor how rigidly his mother was carrying herself, Max decided this was a moment when he had to use every inch of his uniform braid.

 

“Dr Stewart.”  Coming to attention, he stood silently, waiting either to be ignored or updated - he didn’t mind which, that was Greyhound One and Two’s prerogatives.

 

“Captain.”  Kate’s head moved just enough to convey that he could relax his stance, but her general demeanour and use of his rank had him alarmed - the last time he’d seen her like this had been Christmas Eve and she’d been wearing khaki.  “Commander Strax is awaiting punishment duty orders. What options do I have as Brigadier?”

 

“Ma’am?”  Max’s thoughts were racing at a mile a minute as he untangled her meaning from what she was and wasn’t saying.  What exactly had happened in the few minutes he’d been outside?  Although he didn’t know all the details about the exact nature of Strax’s previous history with UNIT generally and the Brigadier specifically, what he had known had been rapidly added to by briefings from the Colonel in the last few hours as she’d pulled together bits and pieces that she thought would be informative and helpful.  What he still didn’t know was whether ‘the Brigadier’ in question had been his Grandfather, his Aunt Win or his Mother and now was obviously not the time to ask.

 

“He didn’t mean it, not really…” murmured Osgood, still rather grey and shellshocked by what had just happened, but not liking the idea of Strax being heavily punished for his error.  “...he just didn’t know.  Actually...”    

 

“Yes?” Listening to Osgood talk through her theory as her logical mind began to break down what had happened, what Strax had known and what he had been confused about, Kate willed herself to calm down some more.  Osgood was here, alive and fine…well, not fine, but wheezy was better than exploded.

 

“I don’t think he knows that an ‘Os-good’...” Her careful impression of Strax trying to say her name was very good and further helped Kate calm down - Osgood was a very good mimic, right down to the slightly crossed eyes staring just past the end of her nose.  “...is me.”  She blinked and refocused her thoughtful gaze on Max, her colour starting to return a little, before looking at Kate and adding,  “I don’t think we’ve been introduced that directly.”  Osgood thought back through the events of yesterday, from Strax’s arrival with wet feet through to providing a bedtime story… “No.  He never called me anything.  I think he just wanted to know what  an ‘Osgood’ was.”

 

“In order to blow it up.”  That part of the conversation Kate was not going to forget in a hurry.

 

“Well, yes…”  Osgood repositioned her glasses, unable to come up with a logical alternative to Kate’s statement.  “But it was an offer to blow up IT not ME.”  She checked the tension in her bowtie knot, automatically tweaking it so it was sitting squarely and level.  “I think that’s an important difference.”

 

“Probably…” conceded Kate, recognising the truth in Osgood’s analysis, even if emotionally she wanted to launch Strax far into outer space with a promise to never clap eyes on the Sontaran again.  “Which brings me back to my original question Captain, what options do I have as Brigadier?”

 

“As distinct from Greyhound One Ma’am?”  Max knew he was on thin ice answering her question with a question, something he wouldn’t have known to do yesterday but, thanks to the Colonel’s rapid digging into both recent and ancient history, he now knew that in the context of Commander Strax, it was a subtle but important distinction.

 

“Yes.”

 

“In terms of options available to you right now…”  Max risked testing her patience one final time by taking a couple of steadying breaths while he formulated his thoughts, knowing being presented with a long shopping list of things they might be able to do at the Tower but probably couldn’t do here would only send her into an even worse mood.  “...With General Carter’s permission, I would recommend ordering Commander Strax complete weapons instruction outside under supervision until he reaches the appropriate standard Ma’am.”

 

“That sounds like a reward not a punishment?” asked Osgood, thinking that Strax would be at his happiest when dismantling and reassembling guns.

 

“Not to mention dangerous?” added Kate, knowing that for a permanently battle ready Sontaran, anything involving ammunition usually quickly resulted in shots being fired.

 

“No Ma’am.“  It took Max a second to work out where their misunderstanding was coming from.  “Recruits go through weapons instruction during basic training.  It’s when a soldier learns to care for his weapon - it’s not about firing off rounds, but how to assemble, dismantle, clean and reassemble the weapon until he can do it…”  Max was about to use the same phrase the soldiers used to describe the test to each other, only to change his mind, not wanting to say such an expression to his mother, even if she was currently more Military than maternal.  “With his eyes closed and in his sleep Ma’am.”

 

“Fine.”  Kate nodded, not entirely clear that it would work, but it was Max’s area of expertise rather than hers.  Furthermore, it did sound like it would keep Strax safely occupied and supervised for a good long while, which was actually her main concern - he didn’t really need to be punished in a punitive sense, but he had correctly identified that he had acted in a way that required acknowledgement, and that was best done by taking him out of his routine.  And having him out of the house where she wouldn’t bump into him by accident for a few hours was no bad thing either.  “Sounds like a useful piece of knowledge to teach him anyway.”  Kate glanced at Osgood, seeing her small smile and nod indicating her agreement.  “Thank you Max, he’s in the kitchen as are General Carter and Madame Vastra.”

  
“Dr Stewart.”  Returning to attention, all military protocols being observed, Max waited until they’d both gone into the study before continuing on into the kitchen, intent no longer on a warming cup of tea but instead on getting Strax as far away from his mother and Osgood as he could, at least for a little while.  Ankle deep in snow seemed like a good start.


	33. Wheeze more with Felines

“You okay?” asked Osgood when they were alone in their hostess’ study, the door pushed to but not closed behind her.  It felt wrong to shut the door tight when this wasn’t their house.   
  
“I should be asking you that.”  Kate rubbed the back of her neck as she turned around slowly before slumping onto the edge of the desk Sam had been sitting at the night before, not quite sure what she was feeling.  “I wasn’t the one being promised death by grenade…”   
  
“It was Strax.”  Osgood repositioned her glasses on her nose and walked towards Kate, not wanting to have to use her inhaler again but not entirely trusting her lungs, meaning she didn’t start talking again until she was stood directly in front of the suddenly world, or even universe-weary blonde.  “I wasn’t worried…”   
  
“You looked worried.”   
  
“Let me finish please.”  There was a steely determination in Osgood’s voice that few ever heard, so rarely did she feel pushed to the edge of her emotional limit.  Not only was it therefore a warning that Kate knew to pay attention to, it wasn’t a warning she needed to be given twice.  “I wasn’t worried about Strax’s…” Although she was sincere about not being worried about Strax’s offer of blowing her up, that wasn’t the same as finding it an easy thing to say, instead finding a euphemistic reference easier.  “...offer, because it was not going to happen.  YOU would never let it happen…”  Carefully, Osgood reached out and caught a stray length of blonde hair with her fingertips, tucking it back behind Kate’s ear and taking the opportunity to trace a faint line around the outer shell of her girlfriend’s ear before running down across cheek to jaw.  “...whether it was me or Max or Gordy or somebody you didn’t know the name of.  I wasn’t worried for myself…”  She took another half step forwards so her feet were in between Kate’s, their knees touching and their faces close enough to feel the air move between them as they breathed, Kate’s rhythmic breathing acting as a pacing rhythm for Osgood to try to follow, keeping the wheezing at bay for a little while longer.  “I was worried for you.”   
  
“I’m…” Kate was about to shrug and say she was fine, but she caught herself just in time - now was not the moment for ‘good manners’ and stiffening one’s upper lip, after all it was, for a moment at least, just her and Os.  “...losing the battle against my headache, don’t like the coffee and am fed up with aliens trying to kill you.”  Her lips twitched into a crooked grin, realising that she felt better for spitting out her immediate struggles, some of which she hadn’t actually noticed were wearing on her.   
  
“Stop drinking the coffee, it won’t taste so bad if you don’t drink it.”  Osgood knew what Kate meant - it wasn’t bad coffee, it just didn’t taste like the sort of coffee they had on a day to day basis.  “And I ordered some Ethiopian beans for us.”  Kate’s face was particularly expressive, with the sentiment conveyed suggesting that Osgood was currently contributing to her headache not making life more bearable.  “It’s the sort of coffee we have at home.  Here all the coffee comes from Central America, which is why it tastes...less familiar.”   
  
“Thank you.  I didn’t know we drank Ethiopian coffee…”   
  
“It’s what they make the Instant from, which is why the coffee you have in your office tastes the same as the meeting rooms, the coffee shop across the road and the coffee we have at home.”   
  
“They all use the same Instant?”  Kate had never really progressed beyond coffee being coffee, although she would occasionally push the boat out and have a cappuccino.   
  
“No, they all use Ethiopian coffee beans, predominantly Arabica to be exact.  The meeting rooms use filter coffee, the coffee shop hand grinds the beans to order and the coffee we have at home is all three.”  Which was a diplomatic way of saying it was Instant if Kate made it, filter or Instant if the boys made it or any one of the three if Osgood was making it, depending on time and her mood.  “The coffee shop by the tube station…”  Kate’s face was so expressive at the memory of her one and only attempt at a cup of coffee from there that Osgood had to chuckle, “...you remember it well, they’re extremely proud of their Guatemalan coffee beans.”   
  
“I shall stick to tea then,” decided Kate, tentatively reaching forward and catching her fingertip in Osgood’s trouser pocket.  “Crosses one problem off my list.”   
  
“Drink water instead and the headache will improve.”  Os mirrored her girlfriend’s gesture and caught hold of Kate’s trouser pocket with her left hand.  “And Strax didn’t actually try to kill me…” Her right hand felt more natural resting in the slight gape of the waistband in the small of Kate’s lower back, a gape that was only there because of Kate perching against the edge of the table.  If she’d been standing up straight, the trousers were too well tailored to create even the tiniest of openings.  “...he just thought that was what the Brigadier wanted…”   
  
“Never going to happen.”  Kate put her finger on her girlfriend’s parting lips, cutting her off.  “It’s an unwritten UNIT rule.  The Brigadier must always love Osgood.”  She took her finger away.  “My father loved you, I certainly love you and Win Bambera knows what’s good for her…”   
  
“You mean Flo loves me.”   
  
“That too,” agreed Kate grinning, “although I actually was thinking more that Win can work through her own budget battles if she doesn’t agree with me about you having lots of lovable qualities…”   
  
“And if she tries to take credit for introducing us?” asked Os lightly, sensing that this was perhaps the real reason for a sizable part of her girlfriend’s headache as if truth be told, neither homicidal aliens, bad coffee nor UNIT paperwork making life more complicated rather than straightforward usually created much in the way of a headache for Kate.   
  
“I’d rather assumed you’d go huffy and remind her I was married then…”   
  
“I do not go huffy!”  Unfortunately, Osgood was all too aware that she’d immediately made Kate’s point for her.   
  
“I’m rather fond of your huffiness.”  Kate demonstrated how particularly fond she was of it by leaning forwards and gently, almost shyly kissing Os’ lips.  “I’m just generally rather fond of you.”   
  
“And I’m rather fond of you,” agreed Osgood, knowing that as much as they individually might like to forget about everything else that was happening around them and just have a weekend of much needed quiet time together, that wasn’t this weekend.  “I think you’re going to have to explain.”   
  
“Why I’m fond of you?”  Kate pulled back from Osgood, completely lost.  “I thought I’d covered that…”  Her girlfriend’s none-too-gentle thump on her shoulder saw her quickly shut up.   
  
“Funny.”  For good measure, Osgood stuck her tongue out before straightening her bowtie and repositioning her glasses.  “I meant about the Brigadier’s relationship with Strax…” Kate’s expression, Osgood was relieved to notice, immediately shifted to what could only be described as ‘ah, yes’ before being rapidly followed by a ‘do I have to?’.  “And I’m sure Janet would appreciate a straightforward explanation about the ravens.”   
  
“Just Janet?” asked Kate, not realising that the study door was opening and the aforementioned doctor was sticking her head around the door.   
  
“I think I’m just the only one rude enough to ask.”   
  
“Janet! Hi…”  Kate spoke quickly as she waved Janet into the room, although her attention mostly stayed on Osgood who, not knowing Janet was in the doorway, had been caught by surprise when Kate had called out.  Unfortunately, it was a surprise that caused her to tip over from manageably wheezy into needing inhaler wheezy.     
  
“Can I come in?”  Used to Sam having all manner of briefings that weren’t for her ears or eyes, Janet wasn’t bothered by asking permission to enter her own study, although the same couldn’t be said for Kate who found the question sufficiently odd that she looked away from Osgood and towards Janet.   
  
“It’s your study…” Another thump from Osgood, less carefully aimed this time as Osgood was rather preoccupied with getting her breathing back to as close to ‘normal’ as it was ever going to get given the higher altitude and all manner of non-Osgood compatible allergens, saw Kate correct herself.  “But what I’m apparently supposed to say is thank you for your prescription but we didn’t need the brandy and of course, you’re always welcome.”  Kate glanced at Osgood, checking to see if she was getting another thump and whether rebellious lungs were being quelled.  “If you already know about the Crown Jewels, you’ve got a suff…”    
  
This time, Osgood’s thump was harder and landed on top of the last thump which Kate’s shoulder hadn’t quite forgotten about yet.     
  
“Hey!”     
  
Kate turned to look at Osgood properly, about to make a comment about leaving the peanut gallery and taking over the conversation when she saw Osgood’s breathing hadn’t improved and was actually getting worse.  Immediately understanding, all objections about bruising easily quickly forgotten, Kate shifted her feet slightly and opened her arms, encouraging Osgood to step between her legs and use her girlfriend as a backrest.  “Come here...”     
  
Not that Osgood had needed the verbal encouragement, having already started moving, anticipating being able to lean against Kate and generally have the physically reassuring presence of her partner.  Also, it meant she could feel and hear Kate’s breathing, breathing she knew Kate automatically tried to keep as steady and rhythmic as possible, which in turn gave Osgood something to focus on and try to strive for.  If the combination of reassuring presence and steady rhythmical breathing didn't help stop her wheezing increasing, feeling Kate's fingers rubbing at the spasming muscles in her shoulders, neck and top of her chest encouraged Osgood to believe that her lungs weren't having every last drop of air squeezed out of them by a crushing weight on her ribs, even if that was what it felt like.  Equally significantly, if none of that helped her lungs, it did at least distract her from wondering why her inhaler wasn’t being particularly effective.   
  
"Okay?" asked Kate quietly, her own neck muscles objecting loudly to the sudden contortion she was forcing them into while she made sure that her girlfriend was as comfortable as she could help her to be, objections that were easy to ignore as long as Os was in difficulties with her breathing.   
  
"Bet..ter.." agreed Osgood carefully, sinking back more heavily against Kate's chest as she reached up with her hands and touched Kate's fingers, stilling them in their rubbing.  "Hold..." she added, knowing that Kate would know what she meant, which was that she was managing to keep her lungs going without the crushing suffocating feeling increasing.  That then meant her preference was to have the added reassurance of Kate's arms around her as she tried to keep the hyperventilating at bay.   
  
"Always..." agreed Kate softly, slipping her hands from Osgood's neck and, dropping a soft kiss there to compensate for the absence of her fingertips, rested her hands on her girlfriend's hips and applied a gentle amount of pressure, a silent and familiar instruction to lean back and rest more heavily against Kate if she wanted to.  Osgood wanted to, and slumped back against Kate more heavily, the pressure easing fractionally on her chest as she 'let go' and stopped worrying about anything except breathing in....and out....and in....and out...as she tried to copy Kate's breathing.   
  
After a few moments, Kate had adjusted her own breathing rhythm until she'd settled on something that was significantly slower than what Osgood would have been doing on her own. It was still a fair bit faster than what Osgood's breathing rate should be and what Kate's own breathing rate would ordinarily be, but it was a rhythm that Osgood had been able to get to, and for now, that was all that mattered.  In another few minutes, she'd get the subtle unspoken signal from Osgood that she was starting to regain some control over her lungs and, when that happened, Kate would slow her breathing rate down again, getting closer to a more 'normal' resting rhythm.  Until that signal came from Os however, Kate was able to divide her attention between her girlfriend and Janet who had remained just inside the study door in a position that was near enough to help if her professional assistance was needed but far enough away to not intrude.  As was often the case for people who had long experience of coping together with a chronic condition, they had everything under control and, until they signalled that they weren't feeling in control of the situation, she wasn't going to force herself on them.   
  
"Janet."  Kate smiled in greeting, signalling to the Doctor that she was grateful for her patience but she and, to a lesser degree Osgood, were now no longer quite so pre-occupied.   
  
"I was coming to see how you were doing..." began Janet, smiling with amusement when she realised how ridiculous that sounded.  "At least, to check that you'd found the brandy if you wanted it and to let you know that everyone has gone out into the garden with Max and Strax."   
  
"Everyone?"  Kate's had clearly felt Osgood start in a similar moment of surprise at hearing how popular Strax's 'punishment' had turned out to be, as Kate immediately added, "Hush you!"  Just when Janet was about to instinctively protest that she'd not said anything, she realised from how even more tension seemed to seep out from Osgood that it hadn't been meant for her.    
  
"Under the guise of 'making sure 'they' follow orders', Sam and Vastra have gone outside with Max and Strax...."  Janet's expression made it clear that she'd not believed either of them for a moment.  "Jenny and Parker were more honest - they just wanted to go and look at the guns."  Janet's amusement was quickly replaced by a frown.  "That was ok wasn't it?"   
  
"She's your wife..." pointed out Kate, deliberately misunderstanding Janet's question in the hope of getting an elbowing from Osgood - it was what her response deserved and she was disappointed when said elbow moved but barely made contact with her side as that meant Os's battle to regain mastery of her bronchial system was taking longer than usual.  "Vastra was a warrior before the hibernation, so I'm not surprised that she wanted to see a weapons drill, although I am a bit surprised that she volunteered to go outside.  She does know snow is cold?"   
  
"She's aware..."  Janet was aware that she had a long way to go before she'd mastered Silurian facial expressions but even she'd recognised the withering glare the Silurian had directed at Jenny when she'd made the same observation.  "Jenny pointed out she was a 'daft lizard from the dawn of time who became grumpy when she froze'.  Sam's bundled her up in extra fleece and swears it's only the wind that's cold.  I'm certain Jenny's keeping a close eye on her, and I've just turned the electric blanket on in their bed, just in case."  She'd also turned on the immersion heater so they had plenty of hot water and had taken some more towels out of the airing cupboard and left them by the drying machine in case warm towels were needed to warm up a frozen General who tended to lose track of time when the rare opportunity came up for her to practice 'being a soldier'.  "Actually, it was Jenny I was worried about, in case this was another tea bag moment?"

 

“Tea bag moment?”  Kate, realised Janet suddenly, hadn’t been in the kitchen when Osgood and Parker had been talking about teabags and not making a mess of the timeline.

 

“Spoi...lers…” said Osgood carefully, starting to feel better in control of her breathing but unwilling to attempt more than the odd careful word until she’d not only got better at breathing but also worked out why she’d not felt an improvement when she used her inhaler.

 

“Oh, I see.”  Kate’s immediate thought was that it didn’t really matter as the timeline was fairly robust in the first place and anyway, the Tardis and the Doctor were rather good at smoothing over any wrinkles that they did create.  Fortunately, before she said as much, she then remembered that the SGC had a rather more trepidatious approach to the timeline than UNIT, so gave the problem a slightly longer thought.  “It’s fine,” she decided, smiling reassuringly at Janet.  “Jenny’s extremely unlikely to suddenly try to set up a gun manufacturing factory and attempt to make whatever it is they’re…” she was about to say ‘playing with’ before remembering Janet was a ‘proper Colonel’ and that both Max and her father would both have held the view she knew better than that, not to mention her father-in-law. “...that they’re teaching Strax to assemble.”

 

“I’ve made tea?”  It was the closest Janet felt she could come to admitting that she’d overheard Kate’s admission that she wasn’t liking the coffee when she’d been on her way upstairs to sort out towels and electric blankets, although Osgood’s polite enquiry as to whether they could order some different coffee had been a bit of a hint.  “Do you have a cat or dog allergy Osgood?”

 

“Both...why?”  Osgood hadn’t thought to ask whether Janet and Sam had pets yesterday, but then she’d not experienced any immediate reaction when she’d arrived at their home.  Surely there wasn’t one hiding somewhere, was there?

 

“We don’t have any pets,” assured Janet quickly, knowing what Osgood was thinking and mentally kicking herself for being so haphazard in how she framed her question.  “But the sofa and Afghan…” Janet saw Osgood’s eyes dart around the room, noticing the furnishings as Janet ticked them off her mental list, “...were in Sam’s study before, when she had Schrodinger.” She was about to add that Cassie’s dog had considered the rug to be his, but Kate was asking a question.

 

“The Quantum theorist?”  Kate felt her insides unknot a little when she was thwacked in the face by Osgood’s ponytail as her head whipped round in surprise at Kate’s comment.  “Yes, I do pay attention when you talk physics to me and I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

 

“Sorry…”  Osgood reached behind her head and smoothed her ponytail down before tucking the end of it inside her collar, only for Kate to flick it out again.

 

“You hate it tickling,” she reminded her girlfriend quietly, conveying also that she really didn’t care if Os’s ponytail ended up smacking her on the nose every other second if it was a sign that the worst was over as far as the current wheezing attack was concerned.

 

“And the name Sam gave to her cat - she gave him to a friend years ago, but I think he considered the Afghan and sofa ‘his’.”  Janet trailed off when she saw Osgood’s nod of understanding as the latest mystery was solved for her.  It had never taken very much for her cat allergy to be triggered so standing in the middle of a room which was populated with a cat’s favourite furniture was enough; add in the high altitude and she no longer had to wonder why breathing was suddenly such a challenge.

 

“Back to the kitchen?” suggested Kate quietly, knowing that the double promise of minimal soft furnishings and a pot of tea was going to place that room well ahead of any sitting room in her girlfriend’s list of places to retreat to.

 

As they headed for the kitchen, the appeal of the easier environment seeing Osgood try to move at a rate faster than she could really sustain from a respiratory perspective, Kate found herself distracted by something Janet had said.

 

“Os?”

 

Osgood stopped and turned to look at Kate, adjusting her glasses while she waited for her girlfriend’s question, clearly intent on devoting her full attention, minus the part of her occupied with breathing obviously.

 

“Schrodinger….he was the ‘cat’s both alive and dead at the same time as long as you don’t open the box to check’ quantum theorist?”

 

Osgood nodded, Kate’s summary near enough for the moment although depending where Kate’s thinking took her next, Osgood knew she might revise that view.

 

“Tip top.”  Shoving her hands in her pockets, the mystery of why Sam had collapsed in not-entirely-sober giggles one night during her last visit, Kate set off for the kitchen again, not realising that she’d proceeded to add another mystery to her girlfriend’s list.  “Tea?”  Kate turned back when she realised Os hadn’t started walking again, concerned in case it was her breathing that was stopping her moving.  “Kettle’s just boiled…” she added somewhat redundantly when they both heard its whistle, quickly silenced by Janet.  “...although I suppose tea is only proven if we actually pour the teapot?”

 

Osgood’s ‘thump’ landed, with impressive but not particularly surprising accuracy, precisely on top of the last two, making this the first ‘three-thump’ exchange since Kate couldn’t actually remember.

 

“Oh hush you…”  Kate stuck her tongue out at Os as she gestured for her to proceed Kate into the kitchen, relieved that they’d got to the bottom of why her inhaler hadn’t been having the desired effect so quickly.  “...I know you’re laughing on the inside.”


	34. Harmonies and Histories

“I’m sorry.”

 

“For what?” asked Janet, concentrating on pouring the tea into their mugs and therefore missing both Kate and Osgood’s winces when they realised that she’d put the milk in first.

 

“Not realising you didn’t know that was me,” explained Kate, reaching across the table and picking up the clearly well-thumbed 2nd edition of her book.  “But I was serious - there’s a 4th edition out now, if you’d like a new one?”

 

“Are the revisions material?”  As much as Janet appreciated the offer, she considered the text to be a very old friend, one that she knew every page of.  While a new edition might be physically more robust and have the odd correction in it, it would look and feel different.  Putting the teapot down, she passed the mugs across to Kate and Osgood, the sugar already on the table.

 

“Umm…”  Kate glanced around the kitchen, wondering what had happened to her reading glasses, not particularly surprised when Os produced them from her trouser pocket, having evidently picked them up when Kate had abandoned them somewhere earlier.  “Thanks...may I?”  Seeing Janet’s nod, she picked up the book and scanned the contents page, hoping it jogged her memory sufficiently to remember where the bulk of the edits had been.  “Most of the edits were in chapter 3, 7 and 12…” Kate handed the book to Janet and took her glasses off before adding the sugar to both mugs for her and Os - neither of them usually had sugar in their tea, but she decided that enough had probably happened in the last 24 hours or so to suggest it was warranted.  “Chapters 3 and 7 had new graphs - the data sets were updated with another few years of results…” Kate passed the now sugared tea to Osgood and took a fortifying too-hot sip of her own before continuing, “...chapter 12 was a major rewrite.”

 

“Was that the…” Osgood’s lungs hadn’t quite recovered enough to finish her question, but she’d asked enough of it for Kate to know how to answer.

 

“Set of edits I was trying to do about six months after I’d moved to Geneva?”  She saw Osgood start to shake her head before smiling shyly and nodding when she realised the slight inaccuracy in Kate’s answer was also keeping their relationship out of the conversation - neither of them were particularly used to being public about their relationship with people who weren’t ‘family’, although that appeared to be changing this weekend.  “Yes…”  Kate proceeded to elaborate a bit more for Janet.  “Not only had I just started a new job in Geneva, but my divorce had just been finalised and I’d started dealing with aliens on a daily rather than weekly or monthly basis.  It wasn’t the ideal circumstances to be dealing with academic stuffed shirts…”

 

“No, I can imagine.”  Janet could relate to all those circumstances Kate had just outlined individually, well not the Geneva bit, but moving to Colorado Springs from Atlanta had to be not that different.  She couldn’t begin to imagine however, what it would be like to have to cope with all of them simultaneously.  “So Lethbridge was your husband’s name?”  That was the only reason Janet could come up with for why K Lethbridge-Stewart was now K Stewart.

 

“No, that was Perkins.”  It took Kate a moment to work out why Janet had formed the conclusion she had.  “Lethbridge-Stewart is my full surname, but I don’t really use the Lethbridge at work…” Kate took a thoughtful sip of her tea.  “Not that it matters much anymore I guess.”

 

Even though she said nothing, Janet’s expression showed her confusion.

 

“Your father…” prompted Osgood, finding talking a little more straightforward now but still not prepared to embark on a long speech.

 

“Ah, right.”  Kate smiled sheepishly at Janet.  “Sorry, I forgot to mention something that might help.”  She sipped her tea again, unaware how frustrating she was being.  “My father was Brigadier Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart and, well, was one of the original founders of UNIT as it is today.”

 

“Oh.”  Now some of what had happened yesterday in the Gate Room made more sense.  “So when you went to UNIT you dropped the Lethbridge?”

 

“Not quite - the first few years I was based at UNIT Central Command in Geneva and it didn’t occur to me to not use full name like I had done when I was in research, but when I was asked to oversee UNIT in the UK…” If Janet noticed Kate’s demeanour shifting slightly, she didn’t react to it, but Osgood reached out under the table and gave her girlfriend’s leg a reassuring squeeze of encouragement, letting her hand just rest in Kate’s lap afterwards.  “...it seemed a good idea to be my own woman rather than…”

 

“A legend’s daughter?” guessed Janet, knowing Sam had struggled at times to cope with other people’s expectations about what ‘Jacob Carter’s daughter’ was supposed to want to do with her Air Force career.

 

“Something like that.”  Kate slipped her right hand into Osgood’s left, their entwined fingers then settling in her lap again, beneath the table.  “Certainly there was enough resentment of me coming in from Geneva as a civilian and a scientist, wanting to change how things were done.  Suggestions of nepotism would have only made it harder.”  Not to mention her father would have probably wanted to come charging into the Tower to defend ‘his Tiger’, no doubt with Os’ father joining in…

 

“So you’re not the first Brigadier in the family then?”  Janet had meant her comment to be taken light-heartedly, still thinking about the parallels between Kate’s experiences and Sam’s, who even when she made the rank of Brigadier-General hadn’t quite been able to step out of her father’s shadow.

 

“No…” Kate’s face clouded with something that Janet couldn’t quite place, but clearly indicated her comment hadn’t been heard with the same lightness that she’d intended.  Knowing what Kate was thinking about, Osgood gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, a silent reminder that despite being unable to escape from an apparently dictated destiny to, in her way at least, become her father, there were some things in which Kate and her father would always be different… starting with their relationship with their Osgood.

 

Unfortunately, while Os managed to suppress the audible ‘ew’ that train of thought ultimately generated, she was less successful at containing her involuntary shudder, attracting Kate’s attention.

 

“Os?”

 

“It’s nothing…” As Osgood readjusted her glasses, even Janet recognised that this was uncharacteristic behaviour from a woman she’d already come to associate with precision and fact.

 

“Ooo-sss…” Much to her sister’s irritation, Osgood didn’t find the extension of her otherwise hated abbreviated nickname annoying if the speaker was a Lethbridge-Stewart.

 

“You won’t thank me.”  Os tried one more time to dissuade Kate from insisting, but it had little effect.  “Fine, but remember I warned you.”  Her breathing was definitely better if she was able to huff.  Taking a sip of her tea, she glanced at Janet as if checking that her independent witness was still paying attention.  “I was thinking about you and your father being similar…”  She watched as the expected wince came - even now, Kate struggled to be entirely objective about being compared to her father as her first thoughts were still always rooted firmly in childhood memories.  “And how Lethbridge-Stewarts seem to collect Osgoods…” Even Max and Gordy had, in a way, collected their own ‘Osgoods’ - her sister’s children had each individually ‘adopted’ one of the boys as ‘their’ champion.  Kate agreed with Osgood’s assessment so far, but was struggling to see what triggered her original reaction, or initial reluctance to explain herself.  “...but I think you’re unique in…”

 

“Oh.”  

 

Relieved that Kate had caught on with her train of thought, Osgood lapsed into silence, glad she didn’t have to spell it out word by word.  Her vow of silence however, was abruptly brought to an end when she was playfully and extremely gently shoved by her girlfriend.  

 

“I did warn you…”

 

“Oh hush!” teased Kate, her relief at seeing the colour returned to her girlfriend’s cheeks and general willingness to ‘waste’ her breath on being a bit silly was more than enough compensation for that, well, horrifically unforgettable mental image she was trying desperately not to let come into focus.  Knowing her luck however, it was going to languish, half formed and forgotten about until the next time she saw Tom Osgood…

 

“Inside joke?” asked Janet, like Kate relieved to see that Osgood appeared to be getting her breathing back under control - if it hadn’t started improving soon, she’d have been starting to think about offering the use of either the Base Infirmary or the Academy Hospital in order to get Osgood back on a more even keel.

 

“Osgood’s father was in the Army with my father.  A mutual friend of ours nicknamed him ‘the Brig’s bumbling boffin.’”  Kate took another drink of her now cool enough to drink properly tea.  “She’s the sort of person who gets away with outrageous nicknames…I’m not supposed to know I’m ‘Baby Brig’.”

 

Janet found she couldn’t work out what to say to that, deciding that this friend must have either a death wish or a special place in Kate and Osgood’s lives to get away with that liberty if Kate’s reaction to being called Katie by Vastra was any indication.

 

“But you’re not childhood friends?”

 

“No…”  Kate lapsed into silence, lost in thought about something that she was evidently ‘seeing’ somewhere in the middle distance between her mug of tea and the kitchen sink.

 

“We thought we met through the MoD, Ministry of Defence.”  Osgood’s breathing was now steady enough that she was confident about tackling short sentences, which was the only way Janet was going to get an explanation: for whatever reason, Kate was still struggling to come to terms with their discovery last night that all was perhaps not as they’d first thought when it came to the circumstances of their first meetings.  Osgood, on the other hand, was more inclined to just shrug her shoulders and move on.  “The Summer I’d just finished my PhD, we did some joint research for…”

 

“Not the MoD?” guessed Janet, wanting to save Osgood having to push her lungs too much too soon.

 

“Not the MoD.  UNIT, as it turns out.”

 

“But you didn’t know at the time?”

 

“No.  Everything was through the MoD.”  Osgood sipped her tea and felt Kate squeeze her hand again, a squeeze she automatically returned, acknowledging Kate’s silent ‘thank you’ with an equally silent but sincere ‘no problem’, each knowing that the other’s squeeze encompassed their shared past and future as well as this precise moment.

 

“When did you find out?”  Janet took a sip of her tea while she waited for an answer, only to realise there was an unintended ambiguity in her question.  “That it was actually UNIT who wanted your research?”

 

“Last night.”

 

“Ah.”  

 

There was something so matter-of-fact and calm about the way Osgood said it that meant it took Janet a few moments to notice the significance of the answer and understand its full implications.

 

“Wait, last night?  Here, in this house last night?”

 

“Yes.”  Osgood concentrated on drinking her tea for a mouthful or two, finding it to be the right temperature to be a satisfying drink, with it cool enough to not be scalding her tongue but not yet so cool it became tepid and disappointing.  “Has Sam told you about the parcel?”

 

“That you brought from London?”  Janet saw Osgood and Kate nod, Kate clearly no longer completely off in her own thoughts.  “It’s a stack of notes she made for herself, she thinks when she had something to study...notes that she was clearly expecting to use at some point in the future.  Why?  What’s the connection?”

 

“In the parcel was a carbon copy of a series of questions Sam asked that needed further study.”  Osgood ran out of breath and words at that point and, much to her disappointment, discovered that she’d also run out of tea.

 

“Help yourself…” encouraged Janet, “milk’s in the fridge.”

 

“Thanks…” Standing up, Osgood set about refilling her and Kate’s mug with more tea while Kate took over the explanation, distracting Janet from noticing that Osgood had put the tea in before the milk this time.

 

“Our Joint Research project that Summer was answering those questions, more or less.”  Kate looked towards Osgood when she heard her name quietly called and nodded her head - Osgood had been wanting to know if Kate felt she still wanted sugar in her tea.  “They had been…”  She wasn’t actually sure what the best way was to try and explain that word for word they hadn’t been the same question, but the scientific objective had remained the same.

 

“De-aliened?” suggested Janet, guessing that this was perhaps one area where UNIT and the SGC weren’t that different.  Although it was less frequent now, she had often had to draw on the expertise of specialists who were not aware of what the SGC was dealing with on a day to day basis.  Suddenly Goa’uld staff weapon blast wounds had to become ‘projectile electrocutions’ and ribbon device injuries became a result of all manner of wind tunnel turbine test accidents.  It had become much easier of late, with most relevant experts now either full time at the Mountain or with sufficient clearance that she could admit to the aliens.

 

“Yes.”

 

There was so much more that Janet wanted to ask about that initial meeting and how they now felt, given that for Kate she’d been working for UNIT for more than a decade without anyone feeling the need to tell her, but instinct told her to change the subject, preferably to one that wouldn’t cause new shocks for the two British women.  Osgood however, seemed happy to keep on the topic.

 

“I found our report this morning,” she said conversationally, bring their mugs of tea back to the table and retaking her seat next to Kate.  “That we thought we did for the MoD.”

 

“Where?”

 

“On the network.  It went to the Technology Board and the Alien Ethics Committee.”  Osgood repositioned her glasses, her lungs settling down now at a rapid rate.  “Twice!”

 

“Technology Board twice?”  Kate’s curiosity was piqued, remembering that particular governance body as being notorious for not reconsidering its decisions when she’d first joined UNIT.

 

“The second time was to compel AEC to reconsider, which they did.”  Osgood leaned forwards slightly and almost whispered, “I think that’s why Claude Tredoment…”

 

“Hates me?” suggested Kate, knowing how difficult Osgood found it to be less than complimentary about the individual members of Central Command.  “I’d always assumed it was because I explained to Central Command why he was an idiot, in English and French.”

 

“That would do it,” laughed Janet, not knowing anything about the parts of the UNIT organisation they were talking about, but familiar enough with military bureaucracy and oversight to be able to get a fairly accurate mental picture.

 

“He was on the AEC and abstained at the second meeting.”

 

“Back in 2003?”  Kate saw Osgood nod.  “But that was before I even met him!”

 

“2003?”  Janet looked puzzled and in danger of starting to try and count things using her fingers.

 

“Yes.  I officially finished my PhD in the June and met Kate that summer…”  Osgood tried to work out what it was in the last couple of minutes that had triggered such a puzzled response from the SGC Doctor.  While not overly familiar with telling the story of how they met, Osgood was rather more accustomed to people being surprised at how long ago their first meeting was rather than puzzled by their actual meeting.  “Why?”

 

“You met because you were asked to research the questions Sam’s ‘field trip’ to the Tardis generated, yes?”

 

“Yes.”  It was Kate who answered, Osgood having decided a quick reanalysis of everything she knew was required, aided by frequent sips of her tea which also conveniently precluded her ability to answer.

 

“That happened during one of SG1’s mission before…” Janet trailed off, remembering that while Kate now knew about Jolinar because of the unexpected failure of some memory wipe technology when Sam had first visited the Tower, she didn’t know if Osgood knew or more significantly, was allowed to know.

 

“You’re able to date when her field trip was to some years earlier,” summarised Kate, appreciating the difficulty Janet was worried about and happy to save her the anguish although not for the reasons Janet was worried about.  Osgood did know about Jolinar, but Kate was quite keen to not bring up ‘humans who might be a little bit alien’ given everything else that was crawling out of the proverbial woodwork.

 

“Yes.  1998.”  Janet smiled in thanks to Kate for the conversational short-cut.  “Why did it take so long to get to you for research?”

 

“Timey-wimey.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Timey-wimey,” repeated Kate, hiding her smile with her mug of very drinkable tea.

  
“That and the post’s a bit rubbish,” added Osgood, adjusting her glasses.  “Another cup?”

 

* * *

 

“What is that noise?” asked River, emerging from the Library with a book in one hand and a magnifying glass in the other.

 

“What noise?”

 

_BBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE_

 

“That noise.”  River looked up at the ceiling, surprised to see the weathered oak beams of a 15th, no 16th century English grain drying barn above her, although at least it was reassuringly solid looking.

 

“That’s not noise.”

 

_BBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE_

 

River’s raised eyebrow was eloquent yet pithy with the rest of her face lending a hint of wit and a double shovelful of danger.

 

_BBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE_

 

“Don’t listen to her Sexy….”  The Doctor patted the wall affectionately, only to stop mid pat and put his hand in his trouser pocket, but not before distractedly wiping said hand with a rather garishly coloured and incongruously floral handkerchief.  He never did well when caught between his ship and his wife, in any time or space.

 

_BBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE_

 

“...blame Regulation Three of the Laws of the Sea as applicable in the Foggarty System.”

 

“All Captains must supervise their  vessels completing a mandatory drain of their bilge tanks with their trousers rolled up to above the knee or equivalent articulation in their lower limb?”  River fixed her husband with a pointed look that clearly suggested he should ‘try again, buster’.

 

“Really?  Do we even have bilge tanks Sexy?” he asked, opening the door to his left and stepping inside, looking for the lightswitch.

 

_BBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE_

 

“I think, dearest husband, that you should remember there are certain things you should never ask a lady…” pointed out River, giving the Tardis a sisterly pat as she watched him start hopping about from foot to foot as he tried to roll his trousers up, having managed to confuse the door to the billiard room with the door that apparently hovered directly over the shallow end of the ornamental fish pond he didn’t remember them having.

 

_BBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE_

 

“I’m sorry Sexy…”  Trousers now rolled up to almost his knees, the Doctor retreated to the corridor deciding he’d not worry about finding his Vexartian domino set just now and instead stick close to River - if the Tardis was siding with her, it was the safest way of not being surprised by the furniture.  “I meant Regulation Thirty-Three.”

 

_BBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE_

 

“All vessels taking a mooring during a space fog must sound their fog horn at the interval and pitch prescribed by the Harbour Master?”  It had been a while since River had visited this part of space and she’d not actually checked to see which time they were in, so she forgave herself for being a bit rusty on the regulations.

 

_BBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE_

 

Now she knew where they were, and why the Tardis was attempting to rupture her eardrums, River’s eyebrow relaxed.

 

“Idris dearest?”

 

_BBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE_

 

“I’m sorry he has you parked in such a rough corner of space…”  Hearing her husband starting to harrumph, she remobilised her eyebrow.

 

He shut up.

 

“...and I will have words with him on your behalf.”

 

_BBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE_

 

“But would you mind turning off your inside voice sweetie please?”

 

_BBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooommmmmmmmmiiiiiiiiiieeeeee_

 

“Thank you sweetie.”  River kissed the library door frame, then spotted she’d left a lipstick mark on the varnish.  Reaching out to wipe it away, she was surprised to discover that it was now beneath the varnish and therefore not removable.  “Oh, sweetie…”  She gave the lipstick mark an affectionate pat and turned around, planning on resuming her work in the library.  However instead of continuing into the library, she paused and considered her husband.

 

“Why _are_ we parked in such a rough corner of space?  Why aren’t we over in the Altos at the very least?  Or even the Mezzos?  I’m sure Idris has a beautiful coloratura…”  The Foggarty, recalled River, were a curious species whose native area of space was permanently shrouded in a thick blanket of fog.  As a result, all of their vessels were required to have fog horns whose pitch and rhythmic patterns were then used to identify what type of vessel they were.  This then enabled the Harbourmaster to know exactly what to dock where, not only for the purposes of efficient port operation but also for composition reasons.  A discordant quay full of the wrong combination of vessels was a greater disaster than an outright collision to the Foggarty.  

 

“Don’t look at me, she picked it.”  The Doctor never liked it when River and the Tardis ganged up on him, nor did he like it when his shoes were wet.  Distractedly, he started going through his pockets, trying to find his sonic screwdriver…

 

“She did?”  Not expecting this, River looked back up at the ceiling as she tried to gather her memories and try to find whatever it was she was missing.  And then she remembered the hunt for the stamps.  “Of course!”  Patting the door frame affectionately, the pieces of the puzzle coming together for her, River abandoned her plan of finishing her current book.  “Smart thinking Idris, as always.”

 

“But…”  Sonic Screwdriver found, the Doctor looked at his wife, thoroughly confused.  Was he still in trouble or not?

 

“I’m going to get changed, won’t be long!”

 

“Changed?”  Standing tall, he straightened his bowtie, completely forgetting that his trousers were still rolled up to his knees.  “Why?”

 

“I can hardly take tea in this!”  River looked down at her clothes in despair, wondering why he could be so brilliant at times and utterly useless at others.

 

“Why not?  I…”

 

“Am getting changed as well.”  River looked him up and down with disdain.  “Honestly….”

 

“What?”  He looked down at himself, not understanding what was wrong with his clothes, only to look back up at where River had been only now wasn’t, as she’d just set off to consult the Wardrobe.  

 

Left alone in the now deserted corridor, the Doctor juggled his sonic screwdriver from hand to hand for a moment before deciding that maybe he would find his Vexartian domino set now after all.  He was sure he had it last in the library….

 

Stepping up to the door that River had emerged from, he opened the door with confidence, expecting to see the library.  Instead however, he was confronted with his bedroom, a set of clothes put out on the bed.

 

Knowing he was beaten, he headed for the bed and the clothes, unknowingly doing a rather good impression of Strax being told that he couldn’t have any new grenades.  However, he did perk up a bit when he saw what the clothes were.

* * *

 

Elsewhere, contemplating her own rather extensive wardrobe, River was struggling to work out what exactly was the perfect outfit when her concentration was interrupted by a noise that had sounded like a cat being trodden on.  Waiting for a further clue, Idris obliged with a slight readjustment of the internal acoustics, enabling River to hear a gleeful shout.

  
Chuckling to herself, she resumed her wardrobe contemplation.  She couldn’t disagree with her husband, not that she’d ever admit it to his face….but yes, bowties were very cool.


	35. ...Of Ships and Sealing Wax...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

 “What’s different about the Brigadier’s relationship with Strax?” asked Janet, picking up a cloth and starting to dry the mugs that Kate was stacking on the side, having decided to wash out the teapot and mugs before Vastra and Jenny came back in from the snow.

 

“Different?  Who’s the comparison with?”

 

“Sam? Me?” Janet put aside the now dry mug but didn’t immediately pick up the next one.  “The Splasheymen?”  She tried to think of anyone else that Strax had conversationally declared to be his next opponent on the ‘glorious field of battle’.  “And I don’t think it’s because of your personal relationship with Osgood.”

 

“No…” Kate finished washing up the mug she was already started on, but having put it on the side to drain, didn’t start on the next one.  “Yes…”  She shut her eyes, trying to sort out her thoughts, not used to talking about how she felt when there was a serious threat leveled against Os - not because she didn’t know how she felt, but because she rarely spoke about it.  “What I mean…”

 

“Your professional response would have been the same if he’d been talking about…” Janet nearly used Max as her example, but decided that was equally complicated.  “...offering to kill Parker? Or me?”

 

“Yes.  No.”  Kate sighed and pulled her hands out of the sink of water, absently reaching for another cloth to dry them on.  “You’re right, Strax and I have a complicated relationship.”

 

“Because you’re the Brigadier?”  Thanks to their chat with the tea just a few minutes earlier, Janet now understood that ‘the Brigadier’ wasn’t just a way of referring to someone who held the appropriate rank in the context of UNIT.  It was specific to a person at a given point in time, in the same way as Jack O’Neill would always be ‘the Colonel’ in the context of SG1, despite there being Colonels O’Neill, Mitchell and Carter on the SG1 team roster at various points throughout the SGC’s history.

 

“Yes.  Him fixing on Os just made it worse.”  Hands now dry, Kate shoved them into her trouser pockets and leaned against the counter, understanding why Janet had asked her question and grateful that she’d not asked it until after Osgood had gone upstairs to have a shower.  “The short version?”  Kate saw Janet nod, relieved that she didn’t have to try and work out how to summarise the complex space politics that was involved as far as Strax was concerned and wouldn’t happen for another millennia or so as far as Janet and Kate were concerned.  “When Strax was three, he was promoted to Commander and given however many thousand Sontarans to command...” Kate saw Janet’s eyes widen at the suggestion his command extended to ‘thousands’.  “Sontarans come in clone batches of millions...everything’s on a slightly different scale when they’re involved.”  Which was a polite way of saying that he wasn’t that senior and that Sontaran Generals were like London buses - prone to travel in groups with long intervals in between them.  “Anyway, he was given orders which meant he was supposed to lead his Command into a certain death on the ‘glorious field of battle’.”  Again, Kate saw Janet’s surprise at this, although the doctor did quickly school her features as she remembered some of what she’d already learned about Sontarans.

 

“What happened?”  Janet was starting to imagine all manner of possible outcomes that clearly concluded with Strax’s survival but apparent disgrace in the eyes of his Commanders.

 

“He committed the greatest crime in the Sontaran Empire.”  Kate rubbed her neck, deep in thought.  “He managed to defeat the enemy without leading his soldiers into certain death.”

 

“That would make him a military hero…”

 

“To us, yes.  But we don’t have a constant supply of clone batches numbering in the millions…”

 

“Oh.”  Reluctantly, Janet could see that there was a certain logic to Strax’s apparent condemnation, even if she did find it horrific.  “That’s how he became a nurse?”

 

“For a Sontaran it is the greatest disgrace, so he was removed from the military command and re..”  Kate had been about to say repurposed, but caught herself just in time as she  correctly sensed that was probably another piece of Sontaran behaviour that Janet would find, well, alien.  “...and was redeployed after training as a nurse.”

 

“Where does the Brigadier fit in?”  Somehow, Janet couldn’t see Kate’s father being a Sontaran General based on what she’d learned in the last twenty-four hours, but she also understood that unless she asked a direct question, because there was so much that was alien to her emerging all the time, she’d be unlikely to get a direct answer.  Which reminded her to ask about the Ravens next…

 

“No Sontaran General would accept Strax in their command.  The Doctor…”  Kate smiled wryly, realising she’d missed out something that was rather key to this whole tangled tale.  “...well, it’s probably his intervention that saw Strax commit this great military success and defeat that enemy without killing the expected thousands of Sontarans…”

 

“Guilty conscience?”

 

“Not sure.”  Kate gave Janet’s suggestion some serious thought for a moment or two but realised that she didn’t actually know enough to form an opinion.  “He persuaded Sontaran High Command to place Commander Strax under the Brigadier’s command.”  Kate smiled when she saw Janet start to nod in understanding.  “And persuaded my father that this was a good idea….”  She caught her lip in thought.  “Love to know how he sold that idea to Dad…”

 

“Who sold what to your father?” asked Osgood, returning to the kitchen feeling much refreshed after her shower.

 

“The Doctor, placing Strax under my father’s Command.”

 

“Ah.”  Osgood repositioned her glasses as she thought about that.  “I think my Dad had something to do with it...not sure what though.”

 

“Anyway…” Picking up the cloth, Kate set about drying the last mug that was still draining, not wanting to still be talking about this when the others came in from the cold.  “That’s why the Brigadier has a different relationship with Strax.  Where do these go?”

 

“Here…” Accepting the subject change, Janet gestured for Kate to pass her the dried mugs.  Putting them on the kitchen worktop beside her, Janet then turned around, intending to put them away in the cupboard when her eye was caught by the forgotten mail that had actually started the whole Strax and the Brigadier confusion.  “These didn’t come in the mail…”

 

Mugs forgotten about, Janet started to sort through the stack of packets that were still resting on Strax’s discarded little silver tray, putting them into two piles - one addressed to Doctor Janet Fraiser and the other to General Samantha Carter.  Picking up one the packets addressed to her, Janet read the address on the front again before turning it over, rather surprised to see the more familiar courier labelling alongside a very unfamiliar wax seal.

 

“Is this….” Janet held up the packet so Kate and Osgood could see the seal.  “...something to do with you?”

 

Kate squinted slightly as she focussed on the packet, recognising the colour scheme of the logo on the courier company label.  “Could be.  That’s the lot we now use for next day delivery…” She couldn’t really tell anything else without her glasses which were not in her trouser pockets or on her head.  “...Os?”

 

“Hmm?”  Osgood looked at Kate, trying to remember what Kate had asked her before deciding it was easier to just look at the packet and work out Kate’s question based on what was most likely given her glasses were still in the study.  “We’ve used them since April…” agreed Osgood, remembering it had taken a little while for the scientists to get used to the new shipping protocols they’d had to follow.  They’d fortunately only had seven explosions, and all had been within UNIT facility mailrooms rather than in transit, but it had made for a rather more memorable supplier transition than was often the case.  “It’s been forwarded to you from the Tower, Janet.”  Osgood reached up and checked her shirt collar was smooth and tidy against the neck of her sweater, which it was.  “But not from us.”

 

“I don’t know anyone…” Confused, Janet turned the packet over again, studying the address, trying to work out who the sender might be.

 

“May I?” Osgood sat down at the kitchen table again and gestured to the packet which Janet promptly handed over before turning back and scooping up the others and putting them on the table.  “Actually, this isn’t for you.”  Looking up from the packet, Osgood looked at her girlfriend.  “Study desk.”

 

“Thanks!”  Kate disappeared on the hunt for her missing glasses, knowing that they were now essential if the post was going to be opened.

 

“It isn’t?”  Janet automatically double checked the address, reasonably confident she’d picked up one of the ones addressed to her and seeing that she’d been correct.

 

“It’s for Jenny, care of you.”

 

“It is?”  Janet’s impression of Osgood was that she wasn’t going to be making this up, but aside from some circular spots and marks, she couldn’t see anything else written on it.

 

“There…” Osgood pointed to the circles and lines that Janet had just dismissed as being random marks.  “That’s Jenny’s name…”  Osgood reached for the others and shuffled through them, concentrating hard until she found the one she wanted.  “This one…” She passed it over to Janet, who now she knew to look at them, saw that it too had some of those circle and line symbols on it as well as the more obvious familiar address.  “Is for you.  Care of you.”

 

“From someone who had to first sent it to UNIT in London.”  Janet studied the circle and line symbols that made it apparently ‘hers’, seeing some similarities between the one that was Jenny’s but they were so subtle she decided she was probably imagining them.

 

“Actually, they had to first send it to Earth.  The Tower just has the…”  Osgood frowned, trying to work out what the best way was to describe how the alien mail was sent and received.  “Post box that all Earthbound mail passes through.”  She turned the packet nearest her over and looked not at the courier shipping label, but the wax seal, which Janet noticed also had one of those circle and line symbols on it.

 

“And they’re all from the same person?”

 

“I assure you my crown is quite warm.”  

 

As non-sequiturs went, it was one of the more dramatic changes of subject and announced Vastra’s return inside through the front door and her evident meeting up with Kate in the hallway.  “But yes, a cup of tea would be an excellent idea.”

 

Taking the hint, Janet abandoned her examination of the packets and set about reassembling the mugs and teapot, making a mental note that when they nipped into town to pick up their online order of groceries, she should nip into the store and buy some more tea as clearly however much they’d had in the house yesterday wasn’t going to last very long at the current rate of brewing.

 

“Hello Vastra…” Osgood smiled at the Silurian and, adjusting her glasses, handed over one of the packets that had, at first glance, been addressed to Sam.  “And this one’s for you Jenny…” She passed Jenny her packet, aware of Kate who now was wearing her glasses, glancing over the shorter Victorian’s shoulder so she could see the packet.

 

“The kettle’s on…” added Janet, slightly redundantly as it was obvious she’d just been filling it up as they’d arrived.  She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to ask them how they’d found outside, not wishing to cause offence.  “Did Sam stay outside?”

 

“No Jan…” With her face flushed red from the cold, Sam appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking decidedly un-General-like with her hair sticking up in all directions from the static electricity taking off her fleece hat had helped to generate.  Before Sam could say anything else to her wife, both she and Janet were aware that there was something ‘up’ with their houseguests.

 

Jenny was glaring at Vastra.

 

Osgood was holding Vastra’s gaze without blinking, adjusting her glasses or touching her shirt collar.

 

Kate _looked_ relaxed with her hands in her pockets but was wearing such a neutral expression it could only be a deliberate mask for what she was really feeling.

 

And Vastra?  She was hissing, and based on how her body was angled, she was hissing at Osgood.

 

* * *

 

 

After a long minute, Vastra’s hissing became more distinct as she regained enough control of her emotions to first actually enunciating her question in clear Silurian and then, finally, English.

 

“Who are you?”

 

“Osgood.”

 

“What are you?”

 

“Osgood.”

 

“You cannot be human.”

 

“Why?”  Osgood canted her head to the side and considered Vastra thoughtfully, her calmness coming in part from plenty of experience at this sort of conversation and from the comfort of science and logic: whatever was troubling Vastra about her, it wasn’t Zygon related - Silurian senses were not able to distinguish between human or zygon.

 

“Who are you spying for?”  Vastra’s voice was hard and flat, her scales almost luminous as her rage bubbled.  This...person...who was so close to Katie, so close to the heart of the organisation created to protect these stupid apes from the horrors of the Universe….how dare she!

 

“No one.”  Osgood broke Vastra’s gaze and deliberately turned away from the angry Silurian and continued sorting through the packets until she found the one she wanted.

 

“Who are you _Osgood_?”  Vastra’s emphasising of Osgood’s name carried with it a chilling threat that Jenny wasn’t sure she’d heard before.

 

“A friend.”  Osgood handed the packet to Jenny who had reached for it when it was clear that Vastra was going to stand rigid and not accept it.  “Excuse me.”  And, smiling at Sam and Janet, Osgood repositioned her glasses and left the kitchen, giving Kate’s arm a reassuring squeeze and pat as she passed her.

 

Frozen, like a tableau, none of the five women stood in the kitchen moved.  The silence was hanging heavily in the room, the snow outside serving to muffle the sounds of the world beyond the kitchen.

 

And then the kettle whistled.

 

* * *

 

Glad of the opportunity to move that the boiling kettle created, both Janet and Jenny set about making the tea, although not before Janet thought she head Jenny mutter ‘daft lizard’ rather crossly in Madame Vastra’s direction as she forced the packet Osgood had passed over into her wife’s hand.  Sam, on the wrong side of the kitchen to join in the tea making process, briefly considered leaving with the excuse of ‘checking on Osgood’ available should she need one, but instead stayed, compelled by a mixture of curiosity as to what was going to happen next and a deep instinct that she needed to stay with her wife whenever there were grumpy aliens present.

 

Kate was oblivious to all of this however, as she remained leaning against the kitchen counter, her hands out of sight buried in her trouser pockets although the cording of her forearm muscles visible thanks to her rolled up shirt sleeves suggested that her hands were far from relaxed and instead clenched tight.  Her jaw was relaxed and her eyes steady as she looked at Vastra, the picture of diplomatic patience, watching….waiting...what was Vastra going to do?  Was she going to try to bluff?  Or was she going to bid?  In this game they were now playing, both their partners had signalled what they held - it was down to Vastra and Kate to actually make the play...Vastra, so Kate had learned from Jenny, knew the mechanics of the game of Bridge and was no doubt very skillful in her play, but how was her instinct?  Did she understand the art of the bluff?

 

“These missives are addressed in Gallifreyan.”  Whether or not Vastra had intended that to be a question was irrelevant as Kate elected to hear it as a statement, a fact that was plainly visible to all who cared to see it and therefore acknowledgment or response was unwarranted.  If that was Vastra’s opening bid, she needed to do more, something that the Silurian acknowledged with a hissed huff.

 

“She reads the letters of the Time Lords.  An unusual ability to possess.”  There was a note of challenge in Vastra’s tone that Kate decided was worthy of parry and rebuff.

 

“You have it.”  Kate’s head changed angle slightly as she considered Vastra, her steely focus becoming searching as she examined Vastra’s face with thoughtful care.

 

“She is an APE.”  Vastra’s temper was starting to emerge - she was a warrior not a diplomat, and while some warriors have great patience and stillness, Vastra’s stillness came at a cost - she could only be still for so long and then it had to be time to act, to charge and to fight.  “She has no right to know the letters of Gallifrey.”

 

“And you do?”  Seeing Vastra start to rise out of the chair that she’d sat down on, Kate sprung forwards, her hands landing on the tabletop as she leaned forwards, deliberately crowding over Vastra, her eyes hard.  “My father granted you the respect his friend the Doctor requested him to give.  He welcomed you into his home and helped you to understand and adapt to what this planet, our shared planet had become.  Your time may see you in the ascendency, a superior species whose rule over apes is absolute but that is not this time.  You are aware that I cannot sanction or exile you, since you are planet born and therefore protected under the same treaties that protect us apes.  But does that awareness also remind you that those same treaties mean I do not have to protect you?”

 

“That sounds like a threat.”

 

“No, Madame Vastra, that is not a threat.  That is a statement of fact.  Accuse Osgood again and I will take action against you.  That is the threat.”  Kate paused, taking a moment to make sure she stayed calm and focussed, made sure she had Vastra’s total focus and attention.  She knew where the line was that she could not cross, both the line drawn by UNIT and the line drawn by herself.  She was not going to cross any lines, that wasn’t who she was, wasn’t who her children and Osgood wanted her to be...but she was her father’s daughter; she was the current Brigadier; she was Greyhound One.  She would not cross the line, but she’d get bloody close.

 

“She knows the letters…”

 

“The letters of Gallifrey?  Yes, she knows them.  She’s known them since she was a child, told stories of a man who travels through time and space searching for the answers to the questions that he needs to answer.”  Kate leaned back slightly, her rage fading as she felt her point was made.  “Her knowledge of the letters of Gallifrey poses no threat to the Doctor or the Time Lords.  You hold evidence of this in your hand.  Perhaps that will help you to discover trust and respect.”

 

“And if I do not?”  It was the warrior in Vastra who spoke, the warrior whose period of calm could only finish in a fight, even if it was a foolish one.

 

“Then you should know that my threat is a promise.  I will take action against you and no treaty or friend will protect you.”  Her point made, Kate straightened up, no longer looming over the seated Vastra by leaning on the table and instead stepped backwards and once more leaned against the kitchen counter.  She didn’t need to labour her point with Vastra.

 

In the long silence that followed, Sam wondered if she should have got her sidearm from the safe in the study while Janet tried to work out what she could do if Vastra struck with her tongue.  Did UNIT have the antidote?  Would it arrive in time?  Kate however, was oblivious to those more desperate thoughts and instead was wondering where Osgood had gone and how the Ravens were doing.  Finally, it was Jenny who broke the silence.

 

“What’s it say then?”

 

“Pardon?”  Startled out of her anger-fuelled daze by her wife, Vastra turned and looked at Jenny, blinking slowly.

 

“These letters...what’s it say?” repeated Jenny, going to stand by Vastra’s side and putting a calming hand on her wife’s shoulder, her fingertips resting lightly on the green scales at the base of her wife’s neck.  “Them circle things…”  Now that Jenny knew what she was looking for, the faint marks above the more obvious traditional address were clear to see.  “That’s Time Lord?”

 

“Gallifreyan, yes.”  Blinking to focus her eyes and dredging her memory for the way to read it, Vastra studied the two symbols carefully.  “It is in a curious hand, but it says…”  She traced her way through the circles and lines of the first part of the symbol with a claw tipped finger before, frowning slightly, she did the same with the second part.  “This part of this symbol is the letters for ‘Osgood’.”

 

“And that one?”  Jenny pointed to the part that Vastra hadn’t explained.  “Is that ‘er first name then?”  It was at that moment that she realised she didn’t actually know what Osgood’s given name was.

 

“I...I do not know Osgood’s first name.  But this is not a name, this is a word…”

 

“In the Doctor’s language?”  Jenny could feel the muscles shifting under her fingers as Vastra worked her way through whatever it was she was reading.  As angry and scared as Kate’s behaviour towards her wife had made Jenny, she had already developed such a clear opinion of Osgood being kind and nice to her that she didn’t want to think Osgood could be a threat.  And if Osgood chose to love Kate like Jenny saw she did...well, Kate had to be alright as well.  So, while she wasn’t siding against her wife, Jenny was hoping that her wife had misunderstood - it was easily done when in the wrong time, and the Doctor did make things confusing at times...and based on what she was feeling, her wife was perhaps starting to think the same.

 

“Yes.”  Vastra traced her clawed fingertip over the circles and along the lines one more, checking she’d read every nuance and detail properly.  “It is an old and ancient word...one the Doctor taught me.”  Vastra bowed her head and closed her eyes, offering up an equally ancient Silurian pledge of apology to an ancestor whose memory has been disserved.  “And taught your father Kate.”  This time when Vastra looked at Kate there was no challenge in her eyes, no fight for ascendancy or dominance.

 

“I know.”  Kate’s crooked smile and now relaxed hands, once more in her trouser pockets, served as her acknowledgment of Vastra’s apology and acquiescence.  

 

“Pe-tro-ne-ee-ell-la,” said Vastra carefully, following her way through the circles and lines as she spoke.

 

“That’s Gallifreyan?” asked Jenny, looking from Vastra to Kate who nodded, her smile now looking sadder than Jenny had been expecting.  “What’s it mean?”

 

“There is not an exact translation into English, is there?” asked Vastra, double checking with Kate, her lesson about being dismissive of Apes well and truly understood now.

 

“Not exact, no.”  Kate was still inclined to pick her words with care and hold her hand close, wanting Vastra to lead until she had no option but to seek help.

 

“The Doctor taught me to think of it as...brave and fearless of the consequences arising from an unstoppable search for the truth.”

 

“So that’s addressed to ‘Brave and fearless of the consequences arising from an unstoppable search for the truth’ Osgood?”

 

“Yes,” confirmed Kate, smiling at Jenny, impressed that she’d got it right at the first attempt.

 

“Bit long for a birth certificate,” observed Sam thoughtfully, thinking that she perhaps had more in common with Osgood than she’d first thought, as it sounded like she wasn’t the only scientist who had found herself part of an alien race’s prophecies.

 

“Petronella fits though,”  Kate rubbed the back of her neck as she felt the tension she’d failed to notice coming start to seep away, “which is the transliteration of the Gallifreyan.  But she doesn’t use it.”

 

“So she’s just Osgood?” Jenny shot another venomous look at Vastra

 

“Just Osgood,” agreed Kate, unable to stop the smile that automatically burst forth when she thought about her partner...there was nothing ‘just’ about Osgood as far as Kate was concerned.  

 

“Would she like a mug of tea?” asked Janet, glad that a tentative truce appeared to be holding in her kitchen: she’d not anticipated having to add interspecies mediation to her weekend plans for once.

 

“I think we all would,” declared Jenny, liking the mugs that Janet had - it wasn’t the same as drinking tea from a teacup, but it was quite satisfying still, and much easier on the serving and washing up…  Giving herself a mental shake, realising that she’d missed what everyone else was talking about for a moment while she’d rambled to herself about tea, Jenny started to measure out the tea leaves for the pot while playing closer attention to the conversation.

 

“...who it’s from?” asked Sam, studying the pattern in the wax seal on the back of the envelope.  “They all seem to come from the same person, based on the image…” she added, comparing the pattern of circles and lines imprinted on the seal on a couple of the envelopes.  “...assuming this is a name in, wait, what did you say the language was called?”

 

“Gallifreyan.”  Vastra turned over her envelope and studied the seal, reading the letters and smiling when she identified the name.  “And it is from Idris.”

 

“This one’s different…” Janet and Jenny had started to do a quick check of all of the images in the wax impressions and soon found that all but one were the same.  “Who is this one for?” asked Janet, passing the envelope to Vastra, as she thought she heard Kate groan.

 

“Kate.”

 

“Of course it is…” Somehow not surprised that she was being ‘singled out’ given everything else that had just happened, Kate rubbed the back of her neck again and wondered whether she should ask Vastra who her envelope was sealed by, or whether she should guess.  “Let me guess…”  Suddenly glad that Osgood wasn’t in the room for this, if only to save her the inconvenience of another bout of wheezing, Kate looked at the ceiling and took a deep, calming breath.  “It’s from Sexy.”

 

“Sexy?”  Janet had, in her time at the SGC, met aliens with all manner of strange sounding or hard to pronounce names, but this?  This sounded rather more deliberate.

 

“The Tardis.  The Doctor’s ship...she named herself Idris, but the Doctor called her ‘sexy’ so often she decided to take it as a nickname,” explained Kate, starting to get a sinking feeling that River’s audacity yesterday in the gate room could well have been the only the beginning.

 

“Friendly…big on letter writing is she?

 

“This is…”  Kate searched her memory for anything she might have come across in the Archives that was even remotely related to getting a letter from the Tardis herself, but couldn’t think of anything, apart from that one time… “...definitely a first, sending letters like this.”  A letter meant envelopes, seals and postage stamps; a piece of paper without an envelope left in a flower bed was a note, not a letter and Kate would pedantically stick to that distinction if she wanted to, which instinctively she felt that she did.  “I wonder what she wants…”

 

“One way to find out…”  Sam slid her fingertip under the fold in the paper and carefully tore around the edge of the seal, keeping the wax intact but opening up the letter.  Spell broken, Jenny and Janet followed suit, taking care to open theirs without damaging the seal while Vastra and Kate ripped open theirs without worrying about preserving the wax impression.

 

“It’s an invitation…” said Sam, once she was over her initial surprise that was written in English.

 

“...but with no time or place…” agreed Janet, looking up at her wife, confused.  “How’s that possible?”

 

“It’s like a conference call…” Kate looked predominantly at Sam and Janet as she explained, although she was conscious of Vastra becoming a different shade of green and Jenny wobbling.  “...never done one myself.  We’ve got some records in the Archives about them…”

 

“Excuse me.”  Standing up, Vastra left her ‘invitation’ on the table and, although wearing her borrowed fleece lined clothes from the SGC Arctic Uniforms store rather than her Victorian dress with its full skirt, nevertheless managed to sweep from the kitchen.  Despite her rigid back and elegant poise, it was clear that the Silurian was troubled by something.

 

“I’m guessing you’ve had some experience with them Jenny?” asked Kate, not wanting to delay Jenny from going after her wife if that was her intention, but wanting to know before she contacted the Tower and instigated a trawl of the Black Archives for further details.

 

“Yeah, a bit... the call was alright, but Vastra didn’t like the me bein’ murdered part so much.”  And, with an instinctive bob of her head like she would have done back in Paternoster Row if she’d just finished serving them tea, Jenny slipped out of the kitchen and went to find her wife, leaving Sam, Janet and Kate in the kitchen somewhat lost for words.

 

Finally, after a long minute of silence save only the faint sounds of Strax shouting his way through trying to reassemble one of the SGC machine guns, Janet had a question.

 

“Kate?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“As a Doctor, I’d like to request… could we plan to have this ‘conference call’ without anyone getting murdered?”

 

“I think that seems reasonable,” agreed Kate, looking to Sam who nodded, chewing on her lip as she pondered this latest surprise in a string of surprises.

 

“Do these conference calls work underground?”

 

“As long as we’ve got hot water and a tea service…”  Kate was frowning as she tried to remember everything she could from the notes she’d read a few years back.  “Os will know for certain, but we should be fine… I’ll go and ask her…”  Actually, Os would know in the same way Kate would know, by contacting the Tower and asking for someone to go and check, but it was a diplomatic exit line that enabled Kate to go and see how Osgood was.

 

“I’ll go call the Base…” Sam followed Kate out of the kitchen and headed for her study to organise a security plan that she hoped would allay Vastra and Jenny’s understandable apprehension about participating in another of these conference calls, never mind her own.  She’d never before considered murder as a possible side effect of a conference call…

 

On her own in the kitchen, Janet made herself a cup of tea from the new pot while she thought back over everything she’d discovered in the last...to her amazement, a glance at the clock told her it had been less than an hour since she’d found Kate and Osgood in Sam’s study, so less than an hour since Strax had been banished to the garden.  Based on how much she’d learned though, it had felt like much longer, as her head was now spinning with questions she now had answers to and new questions and answers to questions she’d not yet thought to ask….it was like being back at the SGC in the days before ‘alien’ became synonymous with ‘everyday’ and ‘familiar’... it was fascinating and mystifying and…

 

Suddenly, Janet was laughing, not hysterical unable to cope laughter, but genuine side-aching laughs…

 

“Jan?” Sam hovered in the doorway, having decided not to ring the Base when she’d remembered that there would already be elevated security in place as a result of the UNIT presence, which was in itself quite a formidable security force.  “You ok?”  Of everything she’d anticipated returning to in the kitchen, Janet doubled over with laughter was not one Sam had put in her top five, or even her top ten.

 

“Yes…” Trying to calm herself down, Janet concentrated on trying to do everything she possibly could to not laugh, or at least, not laugh for long enough to explain to Sam what was making her laugh.

 

“You sure?”

  
“I’m fine….”  Feeling a bit more under control, Janet turned towards Sam.  “...just realised… I still don’t know what the problem is with the ravens!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :-)
> 
> If you'd like to see what the Gallifreyan names could look like, [check out my tumblr post here](http://ncruuk.tumblr.com/post/160196529052/what-the-circles-and-lines-on-the-envelopes-in)


	36. The Art of Negotiation is Science

“I know you’re there.”  Osgood repositioned her glasses so they were sitting squarely on the top of her nose and carried on with her careful and methodical inspection of the ‘Tango messages’ receiver Kate had found in Sam’s study: she’d heard Kate’s footsteps as she came upstairs and along the landing.

 

“I know you know.”  

 

Stood in the doorway, her hands in her pockets and her shirt sleeves rolled up to her elbows, Kate had leant against the doorframe and just appreciated the quiet, drawing strength from simply being with Osgood.  She’d meant what she’d said to Janet, admittedly when she’d been talking about Strax’s relationship with the Brigadier but the same applied to her conversation with Vastra - as Greyhound One, she would defend and protect anyone on Earth to the best of her abilities and with all of her resources, scientific, civilian and military, against any alien threat, irrespective of her relationship with them.  If that ‘anyone’ was Osgood, it was harder to keep a handle on her emotions and nerves, but she would find a way, even if it did mean she felt drained and exhausted afterwards.  The simple act of being in Osgood’s company for a few moments went a long way to restoring her nerve and energies.  

 

“How bad is it?  The receiver I mean.”  When she’d gone into the study, she’d seen the receiver on the desk and, remembering her conversation with Sam the night before, had picked it up and left it on the table in the hallway, partly to remind herself to ask Osgood to have a look at it, and to save Osgood having to come back into a room that made her wheeze.  Clearly, when Osgood had left the kitchen for a few minutes, she’d seen it and brought it upstairs to their bedroom.

 

“Quite good, considering.”  Looking up from the bookend sized brass instrument, Osgood rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck, before putting the receiver aside.  As interesting as it was, it wasn’t as interesting as Kate.  “You’ve done nothing you need to apologise for.”

 

“But….”  Staying stuck firmly by the door, Kate frowned as she tried to untangle her girlfriend’s reasoning.

 

“No.”  Osgood pushed the receiver even further away from her and looked meaningfully at Kate as she shifted her legs slightly, her intention clear - there was space on the bed next to her that Kate was supposed to be sitting in, rather than lurking by the door, which was still open.  After what felt like minutes but was actually just a few seconds, prompted in part by the sound of a door banging shut downstairs, Kate moved into the room enough to close the bedroom door and, having got her feet moving finally, made it as far as the bed.

 

“I’m…”  Chewing nervously on her lower lip, Kate stood by the side of the bed and looked at Osgood, her hands staying buried in her trouser pockets, the muscles in her forearms tensing and twitching as her hands clenched and unclenched into fists.

 

“Greyhound One and UNIT’s Chief Scientific Officer,” observed Osgood mildly, looking at Kate in curiosity, recognising that the only way to get Kate to sit down on the bed and relax enough to fully recover her calm was to logically reason with her.  In this tense, taut controlled state, Kate could lead UNIT for hours and days, weeks even if she had to, but it came at a cost, and it was a cost that today she didn’t need to pay.  There was time to recover, time to relax and regain her calm.  “And I could spend the next few minutes writing and filing a memo listing all the ways you have been brilliant if you want?”  Osgood tilted her head up and back a bit so she could study Kate more closely, in the process dislodging her glasses slightly as she caught one of the arm ends on the headboard.  Repositioning the frames so they were properly settled again, Osgood saw that the cording of her girlfriend’s forearm muscles wasn’t as marked, indicating that the repetitive clenching and unclenching of her fists was becoming less extreme.  “But as your girlfriend I’d rather give you a hug...”  

 

Kate’s head dropped forwards slightly as the adrenalin holding her spine and neck stiff started to ebb away, but she still made no move to sit down - knowing Osgood wasn’t angry or disappointed with her for what happened in the kitchen with Vastra before Osgood left helped.  

 

“I…”  Kate was about to say she was sorry again but caught herself just in time, knowing that Osgood really was extremely serious about not wanting to hear an apology now.  Looking up slowly, Kate looked at Osgood and tried to pull together her scattered thoughts and emotions into what she needed Osgood to know.  “...was supposed to bring you tea.”

 

“Ah.”  Osgood looked from Kate’s rather surprised expression to her girlfriend’s hands, that were still in her trouser pockets.  “Where’s the mug?”

 

“Still in the kitchen.”  This wasn’t at all what Kate had intended or wanted to say, but it was a start at least.  “The kettle boiled just after Vastra had translated your envelope…”  It was then that Kate realised Osgood had left before they’d got as far as actually opening the letters and discovering who they were from and what they were about.  “...they’re from the Tardis…”

 

“I know…”  Osgood had read the symbol in the wax seal on the back of one of the envelopes while she’d been sorting them.  “...I saw the seal.  Yours was different though.”  She’d got as far as recognising that there was a different pictogram on the wax seal of Kate’s envelope, “but it was upside down and…”  Osgood repositioned her glasses and checked her shirt collar was still fastened neatly.  “...at least, I think it was upside down.”  If it wasn’t, it was either a complex code or an extremely rude word spelt slightly wrong.

 

“Sexy.”  Kate’s lips twitched into a brief hint of a smile when Osgood’s head snapped up.  “You are, extremely…” she teased, knowing it was probably cringe worthy to do so just now, but she meant it nevertheless.  “...but that was what the symbol in the seal said.”

 

“Ah.”  It took Osgood a moment to remember their conversation on Thursday at the Tower, when the Doctor had rung and, amongst other things, Kate had reminded her that ‘Sexy’ was one of the nicknames the Doctor had for the Tardis, and it seemed, a nickname the Tardis quite liked.  “What did she want?”  Osgood decided that there was no point asking Kate why the Tardis was singling her out for special treatment - Kate was very good at lots of things, but noticing when she was being flirted with was definitely not one of them, as Osgood knew from first hand experience.  Fortunately, practice had improved Kate’s ability to recognise when Os was flirting with her, and it was definitely something Osgood was happy to keep practicing, at the right moments.  And this certainly wasn’t a moment for trying to work out why the Doctor’s ship was being flirtatious with Kate.

 

“Not camouflage this time.”  Kate’s hands were no longer clenched, although she hadn’t managed to take them out of her pockets yet, or sit down.  “Not sure Janet’s got the right shrubs either, even without the snow.”  Kate distracted herself from the morning’s events with a brief detour into the memories of a lovely weekend in the summer when, despite the unexpected addition of the Tardis to her hydrangea bed for a few days and the Doctor as a houseguest for the boys to look after, she and Osgood had been able to have a weekend’s escape.

 

“We didn’t order any fish fingers…”  Osgood caught her lower lip in her teeth as she mentally reviewed the online shopping order she, Janet and Jenny had put together, wondering what else they hadn’t thought to order.  “...or custard.”

 

“We can always make custard,” said Kate practically, sitting down on the bed and reaching for Osgood’s hand, smiling a weary but genuine smile when she felt her girlfriend’s fingers tangle with hers.  “She’s requested a ‘conference call’.”

 

“Oh.”  Osgood hadn’t expected to shift from custard recipes to the contents of the Tardis’ letters quite so quickly, but she wasn’t surprised either - that was part of the secret to talking to Kate when she was this worn out.  “Where?”  There was no point asking ‘when’ since all that mattered was where they elected to gather to ‘dial in’.  The ‘call’ itself would take place when they all were ‘there’ in a way that even Osgood had decided not to try and fully understand, although maybe with Sam Carter’s help she might....blinking, Osgood paid attention to Kate again before she missed too much.

 

“...the SGC… with lots of security.”  Kate saw Osgood’s question in her expression before she had a chance to ask it.  “Vastra and Jenny have already experienced the call Clara archived….”  Kate had been rather relieved that it had been mentioned by Vastra as, despite her ability to keep a neutral expression and maintain plausible deniability in all manner of situations and circumstances, Kate wasn’t sure she would have been able to keep the details of that particular ‘call’ secret if it transpired it was still in Vastra and Jenny’s future.

 

“Ah.”  Osgood started to trace circles on Kate’s hand with her thumb while she thought back to the various reports that they’d reviewed and archived from Clara’s time with the Doctor.  “How is Vastra now?”

 

“I don’t know…”  Kate tried to pull her hand away as she was immediately launched back into the jumble of thoughts she’d been struggling to order when she’d come looking for Osgood, her head dropping and her focus shifting to a point that was somewhere between her knee and Osgood’s hip.  “I…”  Abandoning trying to pull her hand back into her lap, and instead accepting that Osgood wanted to hold her hand while she thought, Kate tried to find somewhere to start.  “I… reminded her she was recognised as resident and planet born...reminded myself as well.”  Kate looked up and searched in Osgood’s steady gaze for any hint of disappointment or condemnation but there was none.  “I wanted to…”  Kate’s hand squeezed Osgood’s as she ran out of words, unable to articulate exactly what it was she’d wanted to do,not sure exactly what it was she had wanted to do but knowing she didn’t feel good about herself as a result.

 

“But you didn’t.”

 

Kate blinked - it sounded so simple when Osgood said it.

 

“But…”

 

“No buts…”  Osgood drew her legs up to her chest and shifted round so she was sitting on the side of the bed next to Kate who was looking so lost and confused Osgood wasn’t sure if she wanted to hug her or kiss her, so decided to do both, starting with a kiss to Kate’s frowning forehead.  “No apologies…” she continued, kissing the tip of Kate’s nose, feeling it twitch under her lips as Kate tried to object.  “...did you explain?” Osgood wrapped her arm around Kate’s shoulders and pulled Kate into a slightly awkward hug, glad when she felt Kate’s hand that wasn’t still holding hers creep around her hips, returning the sort of hug.

 

“About your name?  Sort of...Vastra translated the symbol and Jenny put it with your name.”  Starting to relax a bit as her jumbled thoughts began to order themselves properly once more, Kate could see that while she might only be able to remember feeling out of control and barely able to contain her anger and fury at what Vastra had been implying for a moment, she had never actually let go and actually lost control.  “Sam even made a joke…”

 

“Oh?”  Osgood shifted in an attempt to get closer to Kate now she felt her girlfriend’s body settling heavily against her shoulder, sensing that Kate was finally letting go of the tightly coiled control she’d been holding since probably the first moment they’d seen their plane at Northolt.  It wasn’t ‘Boat One’, or even the same aircraft that would be designated ‘Boat One’ if the Doctor had been with them, but it was one of the larger UNIT planes with the necessary range to cross the Atlantic and get as far west as Colorado.  In the dark grey gloom of a November mid-afternoon, it had been all too easy to spot how this plane wasn’t one of the ones Kate could use to shuttle between London and Geneva, the brain too quick and skillful at using the differences to remind Kate of that night, of that Boat One…  “What was it?”

 

“Bit long for a birth certificate…” mumbled Kate, letting go of Osgood’s hand so she could properly sink into her girlfriend’s body and accept the hug she hadn’t realised she so desperately needed until it was offered.

 

“Birth certificate’s easy,” explained Osgood, encouraging the now more pliable Kate to shift with her so that she was once again propped up against the headboard and pillows, legs stretched out on the bed.  “Passport and driving licence would be more difficult.”

 

“Why?” Kate’s voice was muffled by Osgood’s shirt as she rested her head against Osgood’s shoulder and curled her body up against her girlfriend’s so she was practically on top of Osgood as she finally allowed herself to let go of ‘Greyhound One’ for just a moment.

 

“Computerisation.  There are character limits for the name fields…”  Osgood tightened her hold on Kate when she felt her slump a bit, not surprised that, in letting ‘go’ of the weight of ‘Greyhound One’, Kate’s body had demanded rest and she’d become sluggish.  “...it’s 35 in Hawaii I think…” mused Osgood quietly as she listened to Kate’s breathing become steadier and slower as she fell asleep.  

 

It wouldn’t be for very long, Osgood had to join a video call with McGillop and one of Maria Walsh’s officers in twenty minutes to review what equipment they’d had packed on the grounded plane, but even fifteen minutes would help Kate recover her equilibrium.  And that, in turn, would help Osgood rediscover hers….

 

* * *

  
  
  


“I may be an ancient lizard from the dawn of time but I am not hard of hearing.”

 

“No Madame Vastra.”  Max’s boots crunched through the snow as he walked towards the Silurian, only for his eyes to widen when he realised that while she was at least wearing some recognisable cold weather gear, she wasn’t wearing any more clothing than when he’d last seen her in the kitchen when they’d been eating Jenny’s excellent breakfast.  “Here…”  Pulling off his knitted hat, Max held it out to her, reasoning that covering her crown had to be a good place to start.

 

“That is your hat.”  Whether it was from the increasing cold she was feeling from being stood out in the snow for a few minutes, or the lingering effect of the emotions that had seen her stride out of the warm house without any further thought was hard to tell, but it wasn’t difficult for Max to hear the frost in her tone.

 

“Yes Ma’am.”  Max continued to hold it towards her with his right hand while he unzipped his big jacket.  “And I would feel more comfortable if you were wearing it please Ma’am, my jacket too.”  

 

“You will become cold without your clothing.”  Vastra had spoken without looking back at him, her hearing identifying the sound of his zipper and making an educated guess that he was already anticipating her acceptance.

 

“Probably,” agreed Max easily, deciding that he wasn’t going to get very far if he tried to argue with her.  “But you have a head start and are already cold.”  Max shrugged out of his jacket, letting it drop from his shoulders so it was now hanging from his right arm as he still stood with his hand outstretched, offering his hat to Vastra.

 

“What relevance has that?”

 

“It’s hardly making it a fair fight between us Ma’am.”

 

“What is this fight you are imagining?” asked Vastra, finally turning to look at him, not able to decipher his meaning.  “Because need I remind you that you are an ape?”

 

“Maybe not fight, more stubbornness contest,” amended Max, trying to keep his voice steady.  “Because I’m not going to risk going inside and having to tell your wife and my mother that you’ve frozen solid.”  Max shifted his feet in the snow, making a display of making sure he had a solid footing and was seemingly comfortable with standing perfectly still on this spot for however long was necessary.  “I will freeze solid first  which, since I’m an ape, will be quite some time after you have frozen solid Ma’am, even with my jacket and hat.”  He wasn’t sure that the Colonel would entirely approve of his methods, but he was certain that allowing Madame Vastra to become an icicle was not an option that any of his commanders would approve of, so he in turn decided that anything was fair game, including a good old-fashioned and very ‘ape’ guilt-trip.

 

“You are warm blooded ape…”  Vastra was finding it harder to ignore how cold she was feeling now he was drawing her attention to it, but pride would not let her admit as much and instead she looked away from him again and resumed her studying of the snow covered landscape that in spring would reveal the garden.  “And are correct - freezing solid will take quite some time to occur given your anatomy.”

 

“Yes, it will,” agreed Max, gesturing towards her with his hat again, “much longer than it would take for a cold blooded Silurian to freeze, which is why I would like you to wear my hat.”  He may only be a Lethbridge-Stewart on paper, but he the stubborn streak just like his adopted mother and grandfather, proof perhaps that nurture did trump nature occasionally.

 

“Fine…”  Turning back towards him, Vastra snatched the hat away from him, knowing she was being rude and grumpy but too cold to care, or apologise.  “...this hat will have little effect on my body temperature…” she lectured, pulling the hat on and immediately feeling the residual warmth in the wool from Max’s body heat, as well as the respite from the cold breeze on her Crown.

 

“I agree, but not wearing a hat will have a significant effect on mine.”  Now he had his right hand free, Max slid his arm from his discarded jacket and held it out towards the stubborn Silurian, not quite bold enough to drape it over her shoulders.  “I said I wanted this to be a fair contest between us,” he reminded her, hoping that his mother’s oft-quoted strategy of ‘Science leads’ would work for him now with Vastra.  “I didn’t say anything about warming you up.”

 

“You are accelerating your rate of cooling by removing your garments.”

 

“Pretty much,” agreed Max, hoping he wouldn’t have to remove many more layers - he was fairly confident that he could take off another layer or even two without any lasting effects from the cold as he wasn’t planning on staying outside for too much longer, but whether his dignity would survive if he kept going below his thermal undershirt was another matter entirely.  “If you can’t beat ‘em join ‘em is what Gramps always said.”  Admittedly, that had been his mantra in the context of fishing, with his inability to cast from a small boat without almost capsizing seeing him shift his focus to fishing the  rivers rather than the lochs, but Max decided Vastra didn’t need to know that.

 

“Gramps?”  Vastra’s interest was caught as it usually was, by a new word she had not previously come across, prompting her to turn around to look at him intently.

 

“Sorry, my grandfather...I think you said you met him when Mum was small?”  Max struggled at the best of times to think of his Mum as ‘Kate’, so he certainly wasn’t going to try and call her ‘Katie’ like Vastra had done when she’d first arrived in the Gate Room yesterday.

 

“Yes...you call him Gramps?”  Vastra tasted the word, finding it fitted her friend better than she’d at first expected, but it did seem a strange word for a soldier to use.

 

“Uh…”  Her use of the present tense threw Max off balance for a moment as he realised she might not know that the Brigadier was no longer alive.

 

“I know your grandfather has now passed, but you still speak of him as ‘Gramps’?” It had been obvious to Vastra from the moment she saw ‘Katie’ in the Gate Room that, based on the human lifespan, the probability of the Brigadier still being alive in this time was remote, a conclusion confirmed when Kate had mentioned her father in the past tense.

 

“Gordy, uh, he’s my brother...well, adopted brother, I mean…”  Max hadn’t made this much of a mess of explaining his relationship with the Lethbridge-Stewart family in years.  Taking a deep breath, he counted backwards from five and started again.  “Mum adopted me when I was fourteen.  She had known my parents since before they’d got married and had me…”  If Max noticed Vastra taking his jacket from his hand and putting it on, he didn’t react, instead concentrating on trying to tell the Silurian enough about himself to understand how he came to be a Lethbridge-Stewart.  “...and I’ve known Gordy…”

 

“Kate’s hatchling?” prompted Vastra, starting to understand the distinction he was trying to explain to her while settling the warm thick jacket over her existing clothing, appreciating its larger size when she realised her hands did not emerge from the sleeves..

 

“Yeah…”  Max blinked, trying to forget about the mental image he’d just got of Gordy dressed up like an egg.  “Gordy and I met at school when we were about six I think, became best friends just like our Mums were.”

 

“And Gordy called Kate’s father Gramps,” concluded Vastra, satisfied that she now understood her latest puzzle, zipping up Max’s loaned jacket before once more letting the sleeves drop down over her hands.

 

“Yes.”  Rubbing his hands together to warm them up again, only now realising he’d left his gloves in the pockets of his jacket that Vastra was finally wearing, Max grinned, pleased with his minor victory.

 

“Thank you…”  Vastra looked down at herself, the jacket a bit too large for her even with the bulky fleece she had already been wearing increasing her overall size a bit.  “...your jacket and hat are helping my body retain some warmth.”

 

“Good.”  Max put his warmed hands into his trouser pockets, deciding he could write himself up on a disciplinary charge later, assuming he survived what he was about to do.  While getting her to wear his jacket and hat was a minor victory, he wasn’t going to have completed his ‘mission’ until she was back indoors.  “I don’t have a wife.”

 

“Excuse me?”  The change of topic caught Vastra off guard and meant her first reaction was in Silurian, although she immediately repeated herself in English in case he hadn’t understood sentiment.

 

“I think I’ve met the lady I would love to be my wife, but I’m not sure she thinks I’m husband material…”  Max rocked slightly on his feet, checking his toes could still wiggle while resisting the urge to look at Vastra as he knew he’d probably lose his nerve, or succumb to an interrogation  about Jess, which wasn’t why he’d mentioned her.  “But apart from her, there isn’t anyone who means more to me than Mum, or more to Mum than Os…”  He heard Vastra’s warning hiss but kept going - he’d got a bit of an idea about what had happened in the kitchen when he’d met Jenny in the hall, prompting him to turn around and come back out to talk to the chilled Silurian.  “...I can’t tell you that I will protect your wife during this call thing like I would my own, because I haven’t got a wife.”  He took another steadying breath, telling himself that if she hadn’t struck him down with her tongue yet, he might just make it to the end of what he wanted her to know.  “But I can tell you that I know how to protect the most important woman in your world, because that’s what I will be doing.”  He heard his phone vibrating but there wasn’t anything he could do about it now that Vastra was wearing his coat.  “Protecting the most important woman in mine, and the most important woman in hers.”

 

“I am a daft lizard,” declared Vastra slowly, once the irritating buzzing noise coming from her borrowed clothes had stopped.

 

Unsure what he was supposed to say, Max kept quiet - he didn’t think she’d appreciate him disagreeing with her but he wasn’t sure that he could bring himself to agree with her either.

 

“Thank you.”  Vastra turned and looked at him intently, her face framed by the black of his hat and jacket collar as, unlike the SGC uniform stores, Max didn’t have the white and grey ‘arctic’ uniform but the regular UNIT black.

 

“You’re welcome Ma’am.”  Max wasn’t sure if she was thanking him for the clothes or the words, but he was happy to have avoided her lethal tongue.

 

“I must apologise to Kate and…” Vastra paused, stumbling when she recalled reading Osgood’s given name.

 

“She’s just Osgood Ma’am,” reminded Max gently, recalling Jenny’s hasty summary.  “No different to when you first met her.”

 

“I must apologise to Kate and Osgood,” repeated Vastra, acknowledging his wisdom with a dip of her head.  “I was…”  Vastra sighed, realising there was only one way to succinctly describe her behaviour.  “...a daft ancient lizard woman from the dawn of time…”

 

When Max didn’t say anything in response, Vastra looked at him with renewed interest: she wasn’t used to apes who didn’t say much in situations like this.  “What have I said that you cannot agree with?”

 

“Nothing Ma’am…”  Max heard her short sharp hiss and rushed to continue.  “...I broke one of the glass panes in the greenhouse, with a cricket ball, a few months after my parents had died.  It was not long after I’d first met Osgood and it was the first time I thought I’d be in proper trouble with her.”

 

“With Osgood?”  Vastra was struggling to connect Osgood to a greenhouse, although she had decided that by ‘greenhouse’ he meant the sort of glasshouse that she and Jenny occasionally visited at Kew.

 

“No, Mum...but I tried to get Osgood to tell her about the damage instead of me.”

 

“Because you were afraid of Kate’s reaction.”  Vastra could appreciate his point - she had tried a similar idea with her Sisters when they had broken one of the dormitory beds by using it as a springboard, but they had had little option but to admit their role in the damage to their instructor immediately.  Taking his earlier advice to heart, Vastra reflected on what she’d seen of Osgood’s behaviour since they had met yesterday.  “I cannot believe that Osgood told Kate for you.”

 

“She didn’t.  I had to tell her myself…”  Ignoring the cold, Max grinned as he remembered her reaction.

 

“What was your punishment?”  Vastra was, if not warming up yet, feeling the positive benefits of not getting increasingly cold, and fascinated by his story.

 

“She gave me directions to the builders’ merchants and money to buy what I needed to replace the pane of glass I’d broken.”  If he wasn’t still a bit scared of her, Max would have laughed at Vastra’s surprised look.  “My ‘punishment’ was to learn how to replace the pane of glass.”

 

“That is an opportunity to learn a skill, not a punishment.”  It was also not what Vastra had expected to hear, based on what she knew of ape parenting, although the Victorian era was clearly a bit different to this time they were in presently.

 

“Mum asked me if I’d broken the glass deliberately, but I hadn’t, not on purpose.  I’d just tried to bowl a bit too quick.” 

 

“Your intention does not alter the glass being broken.”

 

“No,” agreed Max, hoping the ‘Great Detective’ wasn’t too cold to see his point without him having to spell it out for her, as he wasn’t sure he was confident enough to do that.  Actually, with her looking so intently at him now, he wasn’t even sure he was confident enough to continue, but he carried on. “But it reduced my ‘crime’ to failing to have picked a good place to practice given my poor bowling technique, rather than wanting to destroy Mum’s greenhouse.”

 

“I see.”  Vastra stood in thoughtful silence for a minute or two, watching the sunlight sparkle on the snow covered plants, remembering everything that had happened in the kitchen, how she’d assumed Osgood could only have the ability to read Gallifreyan because of subterfuge, how she’d forgotten that she was still amongst friends of the Doctor, how she’d been shown courtesy and trust by the Doctor and his friends in her past...how forgetting all that but remembering how far she was from her own time and how far she and Jenny were from Paternoster Row and their shared time had made her scared…  “I was taught that a warrior who panics does not live.  I imagine your training is similar?”

 

“Pretty much.  We’re also taught to understand that panic makes us do things we don’t mean to…”  Max wasn’t sure he was explaining himself well but seeing her head dip in what he was beginning to understand was her nod of agreement, he decided to shut up.

 

“I have some apologies to give,” declared Vastra, feeling clearer and more certain of her thoughts and emotions now, and of what she felt she needed and wanted to apologise for,, although she still wasn’t quite sure how to actually apologise to Kate and Osgood.  Apologising  wasn’t something she’d had all that much experience with, and she had even less experience when it came to sincerely apologising to individuals to whom she respected and hoped to be able to call friends.  “Do you have any advice?”

 

“On how to apologise to Mum and Os?”  That was not a question Max had been expecting, but then again he’d not really been expecting to have such an informal chat about his family with her either.

 

“Indeed.  I am not sure that I can offer to learn any practical skills like repairing windows.”

 

It took Max a second to realise that, while her request for advice was genuine, her comment about windows was an attempt at humour.

 

“Short, and only provide reasons if they’re informative but not excuses.”  He could hear Kate’s request to ‘explain, preferably in 50 words or less’ as he remembered the various occasions over the years when he and Gordy had found themselves on the wrong side of acceptable behaviour with her.

 

“Truth is singular,” agreed Vastra, her thoughts now arranged with perfect clarity.  “Thank you Max.”  It was the first time she had called him by his first name, but even with her familiarity with Victorian formality, it felt wrong to address him by his rank and surname.  “For your counsel and clothing.”

 

“Of course Ma’am.”  By contrast, Max still wasn’t prepared to risk her tongue by being ‘forward’.

 

“This lady who does not think you are husband material…” mused Vastra, turning towards the house, deciding that if he was at all like ‘Gramps’ had been, the only way Max was returning indoors was by escorting her.  “...does Kate know of her?”

 

“Yes…and Osgood.  Jess works at UNIT.”

 

“She, Jess, is a soldier?”

 

“Scientist.”

 

“I see.”  Vastra stepped lightly up the steps to the front door, only to be immediately confronted by a less than calm Jenny who immediately hustled her daft lizard upstairs for thawing, but not before she’d thanked Max with a relieved smile and a mental note to find out what sort of cake he liked for tea...

* * *

 

It was only when he’d jogged round the outside of the house and got to the back door that would see him able to get into the kitchen without getting in the way of Jenny fussing over Vastra for charging off outside without putting on a coat and generally being the ‘daft lizard’ that the significance of Vastra’s final questions occurred to him.

 

“Oh God…” he groaned, stamping his feet on the decking to dislodge as much snow as he could from the treads, and therefore failing to notice Parker’s return from supervising Strax’s weapons drill.

 

“What’s up?” Parker copied Max’s stamping, blowing on his fingers to warm them up at the same time.

 

“The number of older women interested in my love life.”

 

“Earlier it was four…” said Parker finally, remembering Max catching him up on what had been happening in his life apart from UNIT, with his girlfriend Jess being a big part of that.  “Though I can only guess two of them…”  He’d assumed the Boss and Osgood had to be two, but wasn’t entirely confident about the other two.

 

“General B and her partner.”  Max chuckled when he saw his friend’s jaw drop.  “You forget I knew her as ‘Aunt Win’ long before I joined the Army let alone UNIT, and Flo’s, well, Flo.”  But not ‘Aunt Flo’, not anymore, and not even in his head....there were only so many times he could ask his Mum to make him emergency chocolate cake….

 

“Right…”  Kicking off his boots, Parker gestured for Max to head inside before him, having forgotten that Max’s ‘family’ connections to UNIT went beyond just the Lethbridge-Stewarts.  “So who’s the fifth meddler?  Jenny?”  He’d never really thought about how old Jenny Flint actually was when he was at Paternoster Row, but Parker was fairly certain his friend would consider the Victorian to be ‘older’ than him based on the century she’d been born in.

 

“No.”  Max was glad the kitchen was deserted although he was professionally curious to know where everyone was.  “Brew?”

 

“Cheers…”  Parker started to fill the kettle with water since he was nearer to the sink while Max began to organise the mugs.  As he put the kettle on the stove to heat, Parker heard Jenny chivvying Vastra upstairs for warm clothes, which suggested they could probably get away with a tea bag, only for something else to occur to him  “...wait, Vastra?”


	37. Plaits and Pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To quote one of the UNIT-verse female characters (Jac in the Zygon two-parter), we've entered the 'pardon my sci fi' territory of this particular story....

 

“Lieutenant?”   

 

It took Jake Spirelli a moment to realise that the respectful call was intended to attract his attention and not anyone else’s in this particular corridor deep underneath the hollowed out middle of Cheyenne Mountain.

 

“Yes?”  He turned, hoping the person who wanted him was going to not be wanting him to pass on bad news to the General - he had yet to find the part of his job description that made him the official ‘bad news messenger’ but it was an aspect he’d discovered many others were familiar with and tried to take full advantage of, especially on weekends.  “Master Sergeant…”  

 

“Call me Siler Sir, everyone else does.”  Master Sergeant Siler was as much of a ‘legend’ within the SGC as Samantha Carter or Janet Fraiser were but, like Walter Harriman in the Control Room, was easily overlooked by junior officers who didn’t know better.  

 

“Thank you Siler.” Fortunately, Jake was one of the few who did know better and not only did he not underestimate the Master Sergeant’s significance to the Base, he also recognised that ‘everyone’ did not get to call the Master Sergeant ‘Siler’.  

 

“Sorry to delay you Sir, just wanted to let you know the General’s lab is ready for her again.”

 

“Thank you Siler…”  Jake was relieved to hear he was the deliverer of good news for once.  “...wait, you said it’s ready for her ‘again’.”  He shifted his bag on his shoulder to a slightly more comfortable position, feeling a bit awkward in his civvies this deep into the Base, but he’d only meant to pop by for a few minutes to double check he’d not forgotten to secure some papers properly.  “I didn’t think the General had a lab?”

 

“The General has always had a lab Sir.”  Siler smiled amiably, not surprised by Jake’s surprise.  “It’s on Level 19.”

 

“Level 19…”  Jake pictured the map of the Base he’d become obsessed with during his induction week as he tried to work out how everything interconnected.  “...that’s where the main labs are…”  Jake hadn’t really been to that part of the Base very often as he wasn’t particularly scientific and he really didn’t plan to end up in one of the quarantine rooms if he could help it.  He was though, very familiar with the number of scientists who wanted access to the labs on Level 19, with the General having had to referee the discussion last month over which department got to take over the lab that had been Bill Lee’s since almost day one of the SGC.  Space becoming available on Level 19 was rare and highly fought over when it did happen, so either Siler had worked a miracle or Jake was missing something.  “...and they are all already allocated…what am I missing?”

 

“The General’s original lab has never been reallocated Sir, so it just needed a quick check over and a couple of new lightbulbs.”  

 

“The General’s original lab?  But…” Jake lapsed into silence and his jaw went slack when he realised precisely what Siler was telling him in Siler’s quiet, understated way.  “...I guess she won’t need directions then?”  Now he knew, Jake wasn’t actually surprised - of course Samantha Carter already had a lab on Level 19: this was the SGC and she was Sam Carter.  It was like cookies and cream, they always went together.

 

“No Sir.”  Siler smiled, appreciating that this was an unexpectedly surprising piece of information to give to the Marine, but admiring the way he just accepted the news and moved on.  “Would you excuse me Sir?  I was on my way to the Infirmary…”

 

“Oh…”  Only now did Jake register the significance of how Siler was standing, with his hand held carefully above his shoulder, his elbow tucked against his side.  “Finger?” he asked, already familiar with Siler’s longsuffering tolerance of his near permanent bad luck when it came to accidents on the Base.

 

“Wrist.”  

 

Both men looked at the abused part of Siler which, now Jake thought about it, was looking rather bigger and redder than it was a minute ago.

 

“Good luck with the Doc Siler.”

 

“Thank you Sir.”  And, with the quiet dignity that he somehow managed to retain no matter how badly battered and bruised he’d get from trying to keep the underground Base functioning as well as it could, Siler resumed his journey to the Infirmary: an ice pack would be nice, and a pain killer might not be a bad idea as, now he thought about it, the throbbing was rather uncomfortable…  Still, he’d managed to get the door to the General’s lab to open and close without sticking which, as far as Siler was concerned, was the important thing.

 

* * *

  
  


“....excellent news Captain, carry on.”  Janet listened to the rest of the update she was now getting from her staff, not actually needing a full update on the entire Infirmary but prepared to listen if she was given one.  “Really?  Whereabouts on the arm?”  Frowning, she tried to picture the injury her colleague was describing.  “Ah, I see.”  Looking up, seeing her wife stood in the study doorway holding a mug of coffee that was apparently for her if she wanted it, Janet waved Sam in.  “No, that all sounds fine, and if the x-rays are clear there’s no need for a cast.”  Moving aside the pile of paperwork so she could find a mat for the mug to stand on, Janet smiled at Sam and nodded to the chair, not expecting to spend much longer on the call.  “Well you know where I am if you need me, but it sounds like you have everything under control Captain so carry on...”  Janet completed the phone call on automatic pilot, trying to work out why Sam had come into the study and apparently understood Janet’s suggestion that she’d like some company, only to disappear again.  It was a mystery she still hadn’t solved by the time she’d ended the call.

 

“Sorry, went back for mine,” said Sam, announcing her return since Janet was putting the portable phone handset back in its charging cradle on the bookshelf behind the desk.  “Wasn’t sure if the door was shut,” she added, anticipating Janet’s next question as she didn’t normally have a problem carrying two mugs of coffee into the study from the kitchen.  Then again, Janet wasn’t normally retreating to the study to call the Infirmary because they had a housefull of UNIT visitors.  “Everything okay?”

 

“Fine…”  Janet sipped the coffee, appreciating its bitterness after the cups of tea.  Not that she had anything against tea, but she’d probably had more cups of it in the last 24 hours than in the last week if not longer.  “...I’ve just approved SG4 for discharge and Siler’s not broken his wrist.”

 

“Well that’s something.”  Sam wasn’t sure why Siler was so frequently a visitor to the Infirmary as she knew he wasn’t particularly clumsy or accident prone when they’d worked together on her motorbikes, but nevertheless he regularly found himself being tended to by one of Janet’s team more often than not.  She’d been sufficiently concerned she’d talked to Janet about it officially, but Janet had assured her then that he was just rather unlucky, so Sam had left it at that, trusting that both Siler and Janet would let her know if the situation ever changed.  “And excellent news about SG4.” 

 

“How are our guests?”  After the rather abrupt end to the kitchen discussion and her unexpected attack of the almost hysterical giggles, Janet had come into the study to contact the Infirmary about SG4’s progress while Sam had gone to check in with Strax’s ‘punishment’.  “And this coffee’s lovely.”

 

“Max and Parker are responsible for the coffee.”  Sam took a sip of her own cup, humming in agreement with her wife’s assessment.  “Madame Vastra is back inside thanks to Max.  She and Jenny are upstairs, as are Osgood and Kate…”  Sam heard the sound of footsteps followed Janet’s lead and looked to the doorway to see who was no longer upstairs.  “...that sounds like Kate.”

 

“What sounds like me?” asked Kate, having heard her name and pausing as she went past the open study door.

 

“You, coming down the stairs.”  Sam’s answer, while accurate, didn’t help Kate much.

 

“Sam was just catching me up,” explained Janet, only to realise that she’d probably made Kate’s confusion worse.  “Vastra’s apparently upstairs with Jenny now, she was....”

 

“...outside without a coat, I know.”  Kate smirked.  “I heard Jenny lecturing her about…” Kate thought for a second about what she’d heard through the slightly ajar bedroom door.  “...know them ice sculptures the big parties ‘ave at ‘em might look like daft lizards but ain’t made of daft lizard.”  It wasn’t very often that ‘the Boss’ was allowed to indulge her talent at impressions, but Kate was quite a good mimic when she put her mind to it, as her earlier impression of Strax had shown.

 

“Max talked to her - he and Parker are in the kitchen,” finished Janet, taking a sip of her coffee to help her hide her amusement at the skill of Kate’s impression, reminding her that she was now guilty of being a bad hostess twice over.  “Sorry, did you want a cup?  Of tea I mean…”  She’d not forgotten the earlier conversation she’d overheard between Kate and Osgood, but she was struggling to remember it had been less than an hour ago.

 

“Thanks but I’m fine.  Is Strax still outside then?”  As much as Kate enjoyed Max’s company, she was also aware that he and Tyler Parker didn’t get many opportunities to catch up with each other so, even if she hadn’t felt like she’d already drunk a day’s generous ration of tea and coffee, she’d forego another cup.  If Strax was still outside serving his ‘punishment’ then Parker would hopefully grant himself a few minutes off from keeping an extra close eye on the easily confused Sontaran.

 

“Yes, he’s quite insistent that ‘the Brigadier expects him to defeat this puny enemy’.”  It was Sam’s turn to smirk as she remembered his unique way of assessing a situation.  “I don’t think anyone’s ever described a P90 as puny.”

 

“P90?”  Kate was very familiar with the full gamut of military equipment UNIT used, but hadn’t ever been sufficiently interested in weapons more generally to learn what other countries had.

 

“It’s our version of the SA80.”  Sam on the other hand, was ‘multilingual’ and had immediately recognised the weapons the UK UNIT soldiers had been carrying..

 

“Ah.”  Sticking her hands in her trouser pockets and leaning against the doorframe, Kate smiled easily.  “Spot the proper Brigadier,” she joked, not at all fazed by her lack of knowledge.  “And yes, compared to his laser cannon, it’s definitely.. .pu-ny…”  Her Sontaran ‘accent’ was definitely  improving - there was something really rather satisfying about two syllable words that contained a long vowel in the first syllable when delivered with a Sontaran ‘accent’.

 

“Sounds like he’d enjoy a Staff Weapon then…” pondered Sam, not noticing the look Kate and Janet shared which clearly suggested they both disagreed with her use of the word ‘enjoy’.

 

Deciding Sam was probably lost to them for a minute or two while she no doubt tried to imagine what a Sontaran Laser Cannon might be capable of, Janet changed the subject to something hopefully less explosive.  “How’s Osgood?”

 

“Good.”  For a moment Kate wondered why Janet was asking the question before remembering how abruptly her girlfriend had left the kitchen earlier.  “She’s stayed upstairs on a video conference.”

 

“About the ravens?”  Janet was still very  intrigued at the thought of these famous icons of the Tower of London being, well, not ravens, especially as Sam had been unable to offer any sort of explanation about them either.  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”  There was, however, no level of curiosity or fascination that excused her extremely unprofessional interrogation of the UNIT Head’s operations and she was experienced enough that she should have remembered that.

 

“It’s fine.”  Kate let her head rest against the doorframe while she considered which was the best way to answer Janet’s current question as well as the several questions she’d already asked but hadn’t been properly answered yet.  “It’s more to do with Sam’s offer of a spaceship, but the ravens will probably come up.  Has Sam explained about the different aliens yet?”

 

Hearing her name brought Sam out of her thoughts, but not before she made a mental note to ask Kate at some point if they could have a look at Strax’s laser cannon.

 

“Hmm?”  Sam tried to work out what the question had been.  “Oh, no.  I wasn’t sure if…”  Kate was back to looking relaxed and faintly amused by the situation again, which could only mean one thing as far as Sam was concerned.  “...wait, this is one of those everyone in UNIT knows moments, isn’t it?”

 

“Probably,” agreed Kate before shrugging.  “Well, I’m not sure the Tower switchboard operators know.”  The cleaners certainly knew - they were some of the best informed members of UNIT when it came to understanding all things alien as, if they weren’t, there was too real a risk that the rubbish bins and plumbing would explode, melt, dissolve or otherwise malfunction.  “It’s quite simple really, Osgood can explain it better…or you Sam.”  

 

“That was a hint sweetie…”  Janet recognised Kate’s deference to the brilliant astrophysicists of their mutual acquaintance to be a fairly significant clue that this was going to have something to do with energy.  “...is this where you’re about to tell me it’s all just another parallel universe?”  

 

“Pretty much, except it’s more of a....”  Sam thought for a moment.  “..an intersecting universe rather than parallel.”

 

“I see.” Janet really didn’t, having not meant her parallel universe question to be entirely serious, so she was completely wrong footed by Sam’s answer.

 

“Oh?  Os describes it like being a plait, I mean braid.”  Kate had fallen down that particular American English not being the same as British English rabbit hole before and now automatically corrected herself without thought.

 

“No I don’t.”  Osgood repositioned her glasses and gently prodded her girlfriend in the shoulder, encouraging Kate to move to one or other side of the doorway so Osgood could see who she was talking to, although her guess was Sam and Janet.  “Hello.”

 

“I thought I heard you explaining to Maria …” Kate didn’t mind being corrected by Osgood if she was wrong, and she was clearly must be wrong given Osgood’s statement, but she’d just heard Osgood say as much on the conference call before deciding she should leave Osgood to it, not least because that was the best way to guarantee her not being dragged into something she really didn’t need to be involved in.

 

“I did, but we’re explaining it differently.”  Osgood and Sam shared a smile - they knew what they were both talking about, just as Kate and Janet shared a frown: they didn’t and were both now rather lost.  “Or at least starting from different assumptions about how to visualise a theoretical single universe in order to then be able to replicate that universe and therefore establish a theoretical multiverse.”

 

“Exactly,” agreed Sam, smiling brightly - it had been a while since she’d been able to enjoy a conversation about multiverse theory: Osgood was not Rodney, and it was very hard to surprise or challenge yourself.

 

“Why?”  Janet looked at Sam first, mostly out of habit as she was usually the only person in conversations like this who was an actual ‘authority’.

 

“Why what?”

 

“Why are you explaining the same thing differently?” asked Kate, looking automatically to Osgood for the same reasons.  

 

“Oh, well…”  Osgood adjusted her glasses and looked to Sam who was chewing on her lip as she quickly worked through what the advantage was of Osgood’s ‘braid’ explanation in the context of UNIT, just as Osgood was working out what were the additional assumptions needed to make Sam’s planar explanation work and what their relevance was to the SGC.  “...Time.”  

 

Osgood and Sam shared another bigger, bright grin when they realised they’d independently worked out the reason and reached the same conclusion in the same moment, a moment they could share with someone who wasn’t another one of themselves.

 

“Ah…”  Kate and Janet also shared a smile, although theirs was smaller, less brilliant and more cautious than their respective partners’ smiles - neither Kate nor Janet knew why Sam and Osgood explained the same thing differently, but they were happy to know that their partners now knew.  “...what is?” asked Kate finally, when it was clear neither Osgood nor Sam were going to elaborate.

 

“The reason our explanations are different,” explained Osgood, looking sheepish when she recognised Kate’s rather pointed look which was clearly saying ‘I got  _ that  _ bit..’.  “Because more of, well, our aliens time travel, my explanations start with visualising the universe as a string or tube…”

 

“...along which is time, since time is a dimension,” agreed Kate, remembering hearing that part of Osgood’s introductory talk about what a Universe comprising all of space and time looks like, which was given each induction cycle to new UNIT starters.  “An infinitely expanding universe is a string of infinite diameter and surface area.”  

 

“Our aliens don’t time travel,” added Sam, picking up the explanation which was now mostly for Janet’s benefit since she wasn’t familiar with Osgood’s ‘think of the universe as a string’ approach.  

 

“Not deliberately,” qualified Janet, knowing that Sam had time traveled at least twice during her time on SG1, not to mention the time loops that had cut them off from the rest of the universe for at least 3 months but which only Jack and Teal’c could remember.

 

“So your explanations start with visualising the universe as a…”  Kate tried to work out what Sam’s starting point was.  “...blob?”

 

“Yes, at least, more like a pancake.”  Latterly Sam’s explanations had become increasingly food-based as that was something both Cameron Mitchell and Jack O’Neill had consistently been able to picture, not to mention the students at the Air Force Academy finding food far more relatable than anything else Sam had tried.

 

“And so the multiverse is like a stack of pancakes?” Kate looked from Sam to Osgood who was nodding slowly.

 

“If you’re not treating time as a dimension,” qualified Osgood, having a good idea what her girlfriend was thinking.  “I’m not sure asking Max to imagine pancakes is a good idea.”

 

“He’d just end up thinking about breakfast,” agreed Kate, knowing that Max hadn’t really managed to get to grips with the idea of multiverse theory, and that was despite his love of science fiction and Osgood’s careful attempts to explain it to him.

 

“So in Osgood’s explanation, a universe is a string of infinite cross sectional area with the current moment being a point along the string with the past stretching out in one direction along the string and the future along the other?” summarised Janet, deciding she could just consider Sam’s ‘pancake’ universe to be the cross sectional area of the string.

 

“Pretty much,” confirmed Osgood, pleased.

 

“And the braid?”

 

“Multiverse theory.”  Osgood repositioned her glasses and twitched her nose, hoping she wasn’t about to start sneezing again.  “Put all the strings next to each other in a bunch and you have parallel universes or alternate realities that each have time and space as dimensions.”

 

“I see.”  To her surprise, Janet actually did see, quite clearly in fact.  “But that’s a bunch of strings, not a braid.”

 

“Correct.”  Osgood was satisfied that they’d explained why Sam and her used different visualisations to explain multiverse theory and assumed that part of the conversation was therefore concluded.  As to why Kate had even brought up her ‘think of the multiverse like a plait’ example, Osgood had no idea since she’d missed that part of the conversation.

 

“Where does the braid come in?”

 

“Not all the universes are parallel, some are twisted around each other.”  Osgood’s nose twitched again before she promptly sneezed.

 

“How do you know this?”  So far, Janet was fairly comfortable that what they’d been talking about was just different ways of picturing the theory of the multiverse, but this was starting to sound like quite a specific detail, one so specific it had to be for a reason.

 

“Your aliens,” said Kate, relieved that Osgood had only sneezed once - that implied it was just a sneeze rather than her allergies.  “They’re different to ours.”


	38. It's Really Not Like Polarisation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, for this chapter, the 'pardon my sci fi' request is in place (as if the Silurian and Sontaran hadn't been the first clues....)
> 
> Normal non-quantum physics related fun will resume next chapter. Promise :-)

The silence was deafening.

 

Or rather, the silence in the study was deafening.  There was, if anyone was listening, the faint sounds of Strax singing to himself as he tried to master the assembly of the P90 machine gun, his new boots and two pairs of socks keeping his feet warm and dry.  Closer to hand, there was the occasional sound of laughter from the kitchen as Parker and Max caught each other up on the more amusing anecdotes from their respective recent adventures, while upstairs there was the faint thump from the heating system as the hot water tank was restored to full capacity and temperature after the morning’s baths and showers.

 

“You keep saying that,” said Janet finally, wondering if she could combine the ‘conference call’ with a large and not entirely medicinal brandy.  “But you don’t mean different like Sontarans not being the same as Goa’uld, do you?.”

 

“We don’t not mean it,” began Osgood, understanding why Janet was confused and knowing that Kate wouldn’t have deliberately set out to confuse the Doctor.  “But, no, that’s not what we meant.”

 

“You meant alternate universe…”  Janet wasn’t angry, just stunned.  She knew that UNIT and the SGC operated independently of each other, and that until Sam had taken over at the SGC, relations between the two organisations had been somewhat frosty and distant.  However, the first time Sam and Kate had met each, both had decided life was too short and complicated for the SGC and UNIT to keep playing their increasingly standoffish games with each other and a new operating protocol had been developed.  “That’s how it works?”

 

“It?”  Osgood wasn’t following Janet’s thinking.

 

“The protocol.”

 

“Yes...sort of.”  Kate looked at Osgood, her face showing a hint of sadness that Osgood immediately recognised, even without Kate then adding, “...while you were away…” Kate stuck her hands in her trouser pockets so Sam and Janet couldn’t see how white her knuckles were, although her tense forearms gave her away to Os.  “...we wrote a new one.”

 

“I’m sorry I missed it.”  There had been so much going on during that turbulent period and, even now that it was well behind them, it still cast its shadow.  It did however explain why Osgood had been feeling a little more off balance as they’d travelled to the SGC than would be explained by both of their dislike of long haul flights.

 

“Ancient history,” promised Kate, reaching out and catching her finger in Osgood’s trouser pocket - as gestures went, it was small and hardly effusive yet the affection it conveyed created an intimacy that left Sam and Janet feeling like they were intruding on an extremely private moment.  “I’m sorry I didn’t remember to tell you about it.”

 

Interlocking her fingers around Kate’s, Osgood squeezed her hand, the touch providing all the reassurances and explanations that she didn’t have the words for.  Kate’s slight nod of her head and cautious smile was equally eloquent as her reply, confirming her promise that it was all behind them and not something to be dwelt upon.

 

“I hope it’s shorter than the last one?” asked Osgood finally, drawing Sam and Janet back into the conversation but not letting go of Kate’s hand.  The last protocol review that Osgood had been aware of had just finished as she joined UNIT, with Kate frustrated that she’d been unable to streamline it by removing the no longer needed sections that were causing problems.  Instead, they’d had to agree to add on amending appendices which had become increasingly unwieldy by the time UNIT had finished lodging them in the relevant archives.

 

“Yes.”  Kate looked to Sam and they both shared a smile that Janet could only describe as conspiratorial.  “We got rid of all the waffle that Claude had put in for starters.”

 

“Good.”  Osgood repositioned her glasses and studied Janet thoughtfully, trying to decide what was most likely to be causing the otherwise very experienced and seemingly unflappable Doctor to look so stunned.  “We’re all on the same Earth Janet.”

 

“Who is?”  Startled out of her thoughts, Janet blinked and focused on Osgood.  “Sorry, I mean pardon?”

 

“Our alternate universes.  As far as we know, the two alternate universes interweave and overlap with each other at various points in space and time.  Earth is one of those places.”

 

“Why haven’t we ever come across your aliens?”  Janet could feel a headache forming, the sort of headache she hadn’t had that often in the last few years as life at the SGC became, well, less alien despite retaining its high concentration of extraterrestrial activity.  “Or you ours?”  Now she thought about it, why hadn’t she been more conscious of UNIT on a day to day basis?  It wasn’t like she lacked seniority to know about it, as this conversation and the events of yesterday and this morning had already confirmed.  “Before this weekend I mean.”  It was hard to believe that Strax and Vastra were figments of her imagination, and what did that make Jenny?

 

“We’re quite good at cover stories…”  Kate thought back to the annual game of ‘Truth or UNIT’ they played with the boys during the festive season.  “...and there’s the…” This was one of the few bits of UNIT science that Kate genuinely did struggle to confidently understand, no matter how often she went through it.  “...it’s sort of like polarisation.”

 

Despite the enormity of what she was trying to grasp, Janet couldn’t help but laugh when she saw Osgood and Sam’s winces.  Clearly it really wasn’t ‘sort of like’ polarisation if you were a physicist of repute.

 

“Okay, so it’s not quite like that,” acknowledged Kate, pleased that despite everything Janet’s sense of humour was restored, “but I’d like to see you two try to explain…”  Kate tried to think of something suitably ‘biological’ that might be an equal stretch for Sam or Osgood.  “...nuclear mutations of oxidative phosphorylation enzymes without an oversimplification or two.”

 

For the second time in less than a minute, Janet was struggling to contain her amusement at the expressions on Sam and Osgood’s faces as clearly Kate had just scored a direct hit in the heart of their biology black spots.  Admittedly, Janet was not sure she’d be able to provide too much detail if she was set the question, though she was feeling like it was ringing a distant bell for a patient she’d seen years ago....

 

“I think that’s one-all,” said Janet finally, once she’d got her laughter back under control.  “But not an answer to my question.”

 

“What was your question Janet?” asked Vastra, appearing in the doorway to the study, Jenny hovering next to her, clearly not happy that her wife was already downstairs again and looking for more mischief.  “And is the doorway significant?”  

 

Hearing Vastra’s second question, Sam and Janet waved Vastra and Jenny into the room, with Janet knowing that Osgood would want to stay in the doorway after her earlier wheezing.  However in the minute or so it took for Vastra and Jenny to take a seat on the couch, Janet had still hadn’t worked out what she could or couldn’t say, leaving her rather tongue-tied..

 

“Umm…”  

 

“Vastra saw dinosaurs and humans when she was a child.”  Kate decided that a practical demonstration was probably the quickest way to get Vastra caught up on what they were talking about, and she was never a fan of talking in circles.

 

“That’s impossible.”  Janet looked at Vastra, realising her instinctive response to Kate’s statement had accidentally resulted in her accusing the Silurian of lying.  “I mean…”

 

“I know what you meant Janet dear…” Vastra smiled, her voice warm as she realised what Kate had done and what they must have been talking about.  “You were raised in this time and it is another universe to my own that is dominant in the collective consciousness.  The same is true in the time that I awoke.”

 

“But dinosaurs and humans were…” Janet looked from Vastra to Kate, seeking confirmation from the the blonde not as the Head of UNIT but as K Lethbridge Stewart, the preeminent biologist whose research had been a cornerstone of Janet’s work at the SGC.

 

“Separated on this planet by some 60 million years?” Kate watched Janet nod, still stunned.  “Multiverse theory states that some alternates will only have very slight differences but others are very different.  The alternate that UNIT deals with is very different throughout time and space.”

 

“But overlaps with Earth in our reality,” added Osgood, worried about how pale Janet was looking.

 

“Our reality?”  Janet looked from Osgood to Sam, instinctively seeking confirmation from her wife as her long-standing authority on everything to do with time and space.

 

“When the two alternate universes overlap, one of them becomes dominant.  Everything and everyone created where the overlap occurs is…”  Sam chewed her lip and looked at Osgood, wondering if she had a routine explanation she used regularly and could therefore take over, but Osgood just smiled and nodded for Sam to continue. “...is allocated a sort of, well, ‘home’ reality.  That’s the universe that then becomes the dominant one that you exist in, the universe whose timeline and history you follow.”

 

“So we all have the same dominant universe?” asked Janet, starting to see what Sam was describing.

 

“I do not, and nor does Commander Strax.”  Vastra put her arm around Jenny, suddenly feeling cold as she remembered quite how far she was from her true place and time in her universe.

 

“Which is why you remember dinosaurs and humans co-existing,” concluded Janet, understanding now where Osgood’s braid explanation came from, and why Sam didn’t use it very often.  “Because then you were on this planet but in your universe?”

 

“Precisely.”  Vastra dipped her crown in acknowledgment and wordless praise of Janet for understanding so quickly - for an ape, the doctor was incredibly quick and clearly worthy of friendship with Kate and Osgood in the Silurian’s unspoken opinion.

 

“UNIT looks after Earth in the reality of Vastra’s birth,” summarised Kate, hoping that was a sufficiently oblique reference to Vastra’s pre-awakening life to not be overly distressing for her.  

 

“How?”

 

“We encourage and support the aliens whose presence doesn’t harm our reality and protect this reality from those whose actions cause damage,” explained Kate, shrugging when she realised how pompous the official mandate sounded.  “Or at least try to.”

 

“You are very successful my dear,” assured Vastra, recalling what she had been taught when she was in training as a Warrior, and therefore having a fairly good understanding of how aggressive the rest of the Universe could be if it cared to be.  Those memories meant that, for once, there wasn’t the unspoken ‘for an ape’ qualifier hanging in the silence after Vastra’s statement.

 

“Thank you.” Rubbing at the back of her neck, Kate wondered if it was possible to do this conference call thing with the benefit of a glass of wine or, better yet, a decent whiskey.  “It doesn’t always feel like that, but we try.”  

 

For all the headaches they did occasionally cause, things such as the Earth Handicap Golf Championship and the Alien Diplomacy Internship Programme were incredibly successful at helping to keep Earth out of the top ten ‘planets most easily conquered before lunch’ list, a point Kate was at pains to remind Geneva of whenever they tried to cut the relevant budgets.

 

“Where does the polarisation come in?” asked Janet, finding the idea of overlapping alternate universes was answering a fair number of her questions but so far not that one.

 

“It’s only like polarisation,” corrected Kate kindly, mostly to avoid either of the pre-eminent astrophysicists in the room being even more offended by her poor over-simplification than they already were. 

 

“What’s polarisation?” asked Jenny suddenly, compounding the problems Kate’s attempted shortcut was now causing.  Hearing about the different Universes wasn’t a surprise to Jenny - she and Vastra had overcome the humans and dinosaurs at the same time issue after they had visited the British Museum’s natural history collections and seen the dinosaur fossils.  It had taken Vastra a good week or so of night time patrolling to recover from the shocks and surprises that that particular outing had delivered.

 

“What do you know about waves Jenny?” asked Osgood quickly, deciding that it was probably impossible to explain the concept to Jenny if she didn’t already know about longitudinal and transverse waves

 

“Light, water or sound?”  Jenny was rather proud of herself for being able to surprise all these clever people with something other than her baking.  “Vastra explained it to me when I saw Strax use his laser cannon for the first time…”  Suddenly, she realised she might have said something she shouldn’t have, and looked back at Kate, eager to explain so her friend wouldn’t get in trouble.  “We’d got a Christmas Tree delivered and it were too big for the ‘all, so he’s used it to cut a bit off the top...all bright an’ red it were…’e didn’t mean any ‘arm like, an’ no one but us saw ‘im.  Real neat ‘e were an’ all…”  Actually, now Jenny thought about it, that was still the bigger mystery to her - not how a laser worked, but how Strax had managed to be so careful and precise when they needed a bit taken off the top of the tree considering how heavy handed he was on so many other occasions.

 

“Probably easier to explain it if we get something set up one of the labs on the Base to show you what it is Jenny,” suggested Sam, seeing Osgood’s nod of agreement and Vastra’s rather more subtle smile and head dip.

 

“Thank you.”  Jenny had found she was quite good at understanding the science that was in Vastra’s books if Vastra was showing her what it meant with experiments as well as telling her about it, so this seemed a very good solution.

 

“To answer your question Janet,” began Osgood, thinking that they should probably try to finish at least once conversation before they’d started too many more new ones, “anything that originates on Earth using Earth originating materials can exist in both alternate universes, because this is a point in space where both alternates overlap.”  Osgood repositioned her glasses.  “And there is only one Earth,” she added, knowing that unless you were completely clear on that point it all became impossibly confusing.

 

“Okay…” So far, Janet didn’t think she’d heard anything she hadn’t already learned a few minutes ago.

 

“But if you bring to Earth something that has originated elsewhere, that thing will destabilise at the sub-atomic particle level if it is kept for any length of time somewhere in the alternate universe where there is no overlap between the two universes.”

 

“Oh, you mean entropic cascade failure?” Janet knew about that from when they’d had visitors from alternate realities.  These visitors were usually versions of Sam, which was a relief actually, as at least they all understood what was happening to them without anyone needing to explain.  This was extra useful in those situations where they’d ended up gaining a Sam from another reality because the Sam from this reality had been mislaid, as without Sam there wasn’t really anyone at the Base who could sensibly explain the Stargate and alternate realities in a way that the rest of the Base understood.  Although, now Janet thought about it, these had to be alternate realities of the alternate universe that the SGC existed in compared to UNIT...which was way more alternate than even a career spent mostly at the SGC had prepared her for.

 

“That’s triggered by a duplicate, this happens to anything and anyone.  Including energy waves.”  It was that last point which Osgood knew was crucial to anyone trying to understand how the SGC and UNIT programmes co-existed on Earth but were distinct and separate ‘out there’ in space somewhere.  It was also why Kate generally remembered it as ‘sort of like polarisation’ and in private, Osgood was generally inclined to forgive her lover for the gross over-simplification.  “Oh, and it’s immediate.”  Osgood wasn’t an expert on entropic cascade failure: from what she could remember from the high level overview of some of the more pertinent quantum conclusions from the SGC first ten years of operations, it took some time to actually happen.

 

“Oh.”  Janet wasn’t quite sure what question to ask first, and in trying to decide, was beaten to the punch by Jenny.

 

“Destabilise at the sub-atom thing...”  Jenny paused long enough to get some hint that she’d managed to remember enough of the strange phrase for someone to know what she was talking about before she asked her question.  Seeing what she correctly interpreted as an encouraging smile  from Sam, who was becoming less scary the more they talked about this science stuff, Jenny asked the rest of her question.  “...Is it bad?”

 

“I know of no one who has the knowledge to correct it,” said Vastra gravely.

 

“Not even the Doctor?” asked Jenny, turning to look at her wife, her eyes wide with surprise and shock.  

 

It took Janet a moment to remember that in this context, ‘the Doctor’ wasn’t her as the Chief Medical Officer on the SGC, but one of UNIT’s aliens who she was now very keen to meet.

 

“The Time Lords are the only people for whom the effect is not immediate, and who can survive its effects but they do not survive unchanged.”  Vastra held Jenny’s eyes with her own as she spoke, hoping her wife would understand what she wasn’t saying as, until she spoke with Kate, she did not know if the Doctor’s ability to regenerate was something that was widely understood amongst these Americans.  And, much to her frustration, while she could remember some allusionary references to the Doctor’s multiple regenerations during River’s panic about Osgood’s scarf yesterday, Vastra’s memory was currently letting her down on the specifics.

 

“Oh.”  Jenny hadn’t liked the sound of it when she hadn’t known what it was, and now she thought she understood it to be the thing that caused the Doctor to regenerate, she still didn’t want to go anywhere near it.  But they’d said she and Vastra were alright, because they had both been born on Earth… “‘Ere, what about Strax?”  He might be occasionally very irritating, but Jenny didn’t like the idea of him being in danger of his sub-atoms falling apart, even if she wasn’t sure what they were.

 

“How did he use the Stargate?” added Janet, her own questions forgotten.

 

“As long as Strax is on Earth he will be fine Jenny,” assured Kate quickly, appreciating the Victorian’s concern for the Sontaran.  “We just need to make sure he doesn’t take any of the wrong sort of souvenirs home to Paternoster Row because if he left Earth with them they’d…”  Kate wasn’t sure if she should risk another imperfect explanation.

 

“...disappear,” finished Osgood, seeing that Jenny was starting to be a bit more reassured about her friend’s survival chances.  “But he was unlikely to be given any SGC alien technology to take home, so that’s alright.”

 

“I’ll check ‘is suitcase.”  Feeling more reassured, Jenny relaxed back into the couch and took hold of Vastra’s hand, deciding she had probably understood as much as she wanted or needed to for now.  Instead, having caught sight of the time on the clock behind the desk, Jenny started to work out what she had left from the food the nice man at the ‘Base’ had organised for her as they almost certainly needed to eat some lunch before they had tea with the Tardis, and would need to have some actual tea when they were back from having tea...

 

“The Stargate is a bit more complicated,” began Sam, deciding it was probably her turn to take up the explanation, not least because she wasn’t that used to having someone else able to explain how the Stargate worked.  “But as far as we have been able to tell, the wormholes established between the gates are, depending how you want to look at it, either outside or inside both universes.”

 

Based on Janet’s raised eyebrow, it was clear that neither of those ways of looking at it had been helpful and Sam got the message that she needed to have another go.

 

“From what we know, about the incompatibility issues between the two alternate universes, it seems that the issues are with the Bosons not the Fermions.  Bosons are the particles that make up energy, and Fermions…”  Sam trailed off, seeing that Janet was now understanding, or at least understanding enough to, well, understand how it was possible for Strax to survive a journey through the Stargate.

 

“The wormhole treats energy and matter differently…” began Janet, watching Sam closely for the hints and clues in her wife’s expression that told her she was on the right track,  “...which is why objects can only pass one way through a wormhole but radio waves can pass through in both directions.”

 

“Parker had a radio as well as the GDO.”  Kate had correctly anticipated Janet and Vastra’s next questions.  “And I’m sure River has something that also helped establish a radio signal connection as well.”  And that supplementary comment answered Osgood and Sam’s question too judging by Sam’s grin and Osgood’s squeeze of her hand.

 

“So as long as both ends of the wormhole are somewhere in the right universe for the bosons to behave correctly then the object can enter and exit the wormhole without any issue?”  summarised Janet, fascinated by this new and only slightly confusing, relatively speaking, aspect of her understanding of time and space.

 

“Assuming all objects are assumed to be a mixture of fermions and bosons, pretty much.”  Sam was hoping that when it came to Strax’s homeward trip that Kate’s aliens would be providing the transportation as she wasn’t entirely certain that she’d know which planet they needed to dial as a staging point. Which prompted her to think of another question she’d never got around to asking when she’d visited UNIT last.  “Are there many gates on planets that are like Earth and in both alternate universes?” 

 

“We only know of 5, including Earth.”  Osgood looked at Vastra, wondering if the Silurians had known of any others.

 

“These ‘gates’ did not exist on this planet during the time of my people so I do not know of any others apart from the planet River Song took us to.  Can the Doctor not tell you?”  Although Osgood had directed the original question at her, Vastra clearly directed hers to Kate, which didn’t surprise Osgood in the slightest - there were just some things that only a Lethbridge-Stewart could answer.

 

“The Doctor was the one who told us about the ones we do know about.”  How he knew about them was another question entirely, and one that Kate had instinctively decided was probably best not asked, so she hadn’t.

 

“Speaking of the Doctor, or rather the Tardis…”  Vastra caught Kate’s eye and looked at her thoughtfully, wondering what if anything she could do to try and repair the damage her earlier misjudgments had caused, but she didn’t get much time to consider it further as Kate saw the time and understood Vastra’s point.

 

“Yes of course.”  Squaring her shoulders, Kate looked at Jenny.  “Might we use your tea service?”

 

“‘Course!  It’s…”  Jenny paused, realising she’d left it at the Base with some of their other things which she’d decided would be rude to bring into someone else’s home, even if they’d not been expected.  “...at the other place…”

 

“Tip top!”  Kate’s bright and cheery acceptance of this piece of news confused Jenny - she’d not been around when Kate, Sam and Janet had agreed that the conference call was best completed back at the Base.  “When do we leave Sam?” 

 

Sam glanced at her watch and then looked out of the window at the now gently falling snow, understanding where Kate’s sudden urgency had come from.  The sooner they left for the Base, the sooner they could come back, preferably in the heated SUVs rather than the unheated trucks that they had to resort to when the snow got deep.

 

“Half an hour?  It’s…” she was about to continue to confirm the current time was 1147 hours as the military protocols would expect, but stopped herself.

 

“Quarter to ish now, so twenty past twelve?” suggested Kate, amused at Sam’s rueful smile and nod of agreement.

 

“An admirable plan, we will be ready,” declared Vastra, only to pause, remembering that here, in this time and with these friends she did not to conceal her female characteristics and Silurian differences.  She did not need to submit to hooped skirts and veils, nor did they need their swords.  Looking at her wife, she found she was at a loss to know what they did need to do to be ‘ready’ for this excursion.

 

“Tea?” prompted Jenny, knowing what her wife’s thoughts were.  “Upstairs?” 

 

“Ah yes, of course.”  Inclining her head in acknowledgment of Jenny’s prompting, Vastra looked back to Kate and Sam, having decided that they were to be treated as joint leaders of this expedition.  “We shall bring the tea.”

 

And with that, the impromptu gathering broke up, with Kate heading upstairs with Vastra and Jenny as Osgood had already beaten her to the kitchen door to ask Parker and Max to collect Strax and get themselves ready.

 

Left alone again in their study, Sam looked at Janet and was about to ask how much trouble she was in for not telling Janet sooner about the alternate realities and intersecting universes, only for Janet to start talking first.

 

“I think I agree with Kate…” Janet paused to drink the last of her now cooled coffee, intending to take both mugs back to the kitchen before nipping upstairs to get herself ready.

 

“Oh?”  Sam gave her coffee mug to Janet when she held her left hand out for it. “Thanks.”

 

“Yes…”  Pausing in the doorway, Janet looked back at her wife with a smirk.  “...it is a  _ bit  _ like Polarisation…”  And, laughing at her wife’s theatrical groan and despairing flop back into the desk chair, Janet went through to the kitchen to make sure everything was tidy and turned off before they left for the mountain.

 

She just had one reservation about the afternoon ahead - could she really face drinking yet another cup of tea?


	39. Command Privilege

“Excuse me Sir?”  Parker stopped a respectful distance from the US Marine Sergeant who was currently overseeing Strax’s determined attempt to perfect the strip down and reassemble drill for the P90 standard issue gun.

 

“Yes?”  Turning around to look at whoever was interrupting, the Marine was surprised to see it was one of the UNIT visitors, only this one now looked rather more like a 21st century soldier than the Victorian Coachman that he’d been expecting, but at least he knew how to address the rank insignia.  “Corporal?”  

 

“Bombardier Parker Sir.”  Parker pulled himself into the at attention stance that was instinctive and second nature to him even when he hadn’t been subject to a military inspection for months.  When the Sergeant signalled he should relax, he shifted to stand at ease and, sensing the frown was in response to his rank, added, “Royal Horse Artillery - different way of calling me a Corporal.”  It was from there that he had applied for the UNIT post when they’d been needing a soldier who could drive a coach and pair.  It had taken him a little while to get used to having a coach with actual passengers instead of a gun carriage, but he’d adjusted rather quickly and now didn’t think anything of it.

 

“He’s done good,” declared the Sergeant, deciding it was probably easier to stop trying to think about what it must be like to be a time traveller.  After his years at the SGC, he was alright with aliens but time travel was a guaranteed headache.  “At the rifle, not sure about the singing.”

 

“He only knows two songs Sir.”  Parker risked a grin as he took a step closer to the Sergeant, not wanting to distract Strax from his focussed reassembly task for a moment or two longer.  “And the other one is banned by Madame Vastra.”  Parker interpreted the raised eyebrow as being a clear order to continue.  “He learned it in Glasgow, from the Music Halls.  It’s…”  Parker tried to work out what might be an appropriate way to put it into context for the Marine, only to see that Strax had just noticed him.

 

“Mr Parker!”

 

“Yes Strax?”  Relieved, Parker switched his attention to his Sontaran friend, not sure how he could have explained quite how explicit the innuendo laiden music hall song about the piano tuner ‘tuning ‘er piano’ actually was in the late 1890s.  He was rather lacking in contemporary comparisons, which his mother would probably say was a good thing.

 

“I am defeating this puny weapon in battle.”

 

“So I see.”  Parker was about to ask Strax whether he would mind reassembling the rifle so whoever it was had lent it to them for this exercise in ‘punishment’ could have it back, before deciding that no self-respecting soldier would ever accept that their gun was clean and serviceable after such a handling, so returning it in parts ready for cleaning was not going to be considered unduly rude.  “Time to go Strax.”

 

“No.”

 

That was not the answer that Parker had been expecting.

 

“Strax?”  Parker jerked his head back in the general direction of the house and put his hands in his pockets - the current Troop uniform might be more practical for 21st century soldiering in snowy Colorado than his Victorian Coachman’s garb, but he had a decent pair of leather gloves in the pockets of his greatcoat.  “It’s time to go…”  Parker didn’t think Strax had really grasped what the SGC had been, having spent most of his time there rather preoccupied with the state of his cold and wet feet.  “...we’re going to see the Doctor.”  

 

“No.”  Staring just beyond the end of his nose with the rather quizzical squint that was actually what happened when Strax was concentrating on something, Strax didn’t see the look of increasing confusion on Parker’s face, nor the Marine Sergeant wondering if he really needed to call for some backup:  there wasn’t really anything in either the SGC or UNIT manuals about dealing with stubborn Sontarans.  “With respect Mr Parker,”  Strax had remembered what he wanted to remember so, no longer glaring with the effort of concentration, he did the curious little bobbing on the spot movement that seemed to compensate for his lack of neck as he shifted his focus so he was looking at Parker.  “I am exiled to this place to master my supremacy over this puny weapon in glorious battle.”

 

“But now Madame Vastra and Miss Flint need to go see the Doctor.”  While Strax’s own curious way of contextualising his surroundings did make for some very confusing conversations, Parker knew the Sontaran valued his friendship with the Doctor a great deal and, by extension of that, took his responsibilities within the ‘Paternoster Gang’ very seriously.  Therefore, Parker was fairly confident that invoking the names of Vastra and Jenny in the context of needing to go see the Doctor was about as good as laying a trail of fizzy sherbets  for Strax to follow. 

 

“No Mr Parker.”  Strax did a courtly little bobbing bow to both Parker and his ‘guard’ who had helped him defeat the honourable but ultimately feeble resistance put up by the enemy force known as ‘Safety’.  “I must stay and complete the Brigadier’s punishment.”  Stepping backwards and turning to consider the disassembled rifle on the makeshift table he was using for his ‘punishment’, Strax stopped for a moment and turned back to look at Parker.  “The Doctor will understand.”

 

* * *

“How are we doing Max?” asked Kate, coming downstairs dressed far more suitably for the snow than when she’d arrived at Colorado Springs yesterday.  There were many things that UNIT’s ‘Greyhound’ emergency cargo kit didn’t have that she would have liked to be incorporated into the standard list, like decent coffee and her own pyjamas, but she couldn’t fault them for the quality of tea bags or the range of all weather clothing all in the right size for her and Osgood.

 

“Almost ready,” confirmed Max, smiling at her.  “Convoy’s built - we’re just waiting on all the passengers.”  He’d just come back inside to wait for everyone, with his SGC counterpart staying with the vehicles and combined security detail.  Max felt a bit bad that he kept getting the inside duty but he could also appreciate that Generals Carter and Fraiser were less of an incremental challenge for him over the UNIT contingent than the SGC team lead trying to cope with all of UNIT’s idiosyncrasies.  “You’re first.”  

“What did you lose?” asked Kate in amusement, leaning against the wall so she wasn’t blocking the stairs when the next person appeared.  “I imagine Tyler was offering Jenny’s baking?”  Although Max had clearly not fully recovered from her being in full  ‘Brigadier’ mode earlier, he thought he had managed to fully conceal his surprise at her being ready first.  That he hadn’t managed to fool her led him to think she must have been cheating and using her ‘Mum-sense’ to spot his reaction to her unusually timely arrival.

 

“One packet of Jaffa Cakes for every person you were ahead of...” Max did a quick headcount, recognising this was now his Mum he was talking to.  “So I owe him six packets, plus another…”

 

“Oh?”  Kate had forgotten that Bombardier Parker’s only hardship from his Victorian postings that he actually struggled with was the interruption in the supply of jaffa cakes, which he seemed to consume in quantity on his return each time.  “How did he negotiate those?”  As far as she could tell however, Tyler also had quite the knack of getting others to furnish him with them.

 

“Jenny’s scones…”  Max saw her eyes narrowing and knew he was beginning to blush.  “They were very good!”

 

“Yes, they were, and you had seconds like the rest of us…” Kate was amused at how little he’d changed from when she’d first known him as a six year old, with a rather good knack at getting Freddie, Kate and Dr Onurosie to each individually let him pick a biscuit from the biscuit tin to have with his juice on the days when he had to stay in the Department coffee room while his mother had a late lecture or seminar.  “Do I want to know how many extra scones it takes to equal a whole packet of jaffa cakes?”

 

“Umm…” Before Max could work out how to answer her question, given the options were ‘yes’, ‘no’ and ‘four’, his radio burst into life.

 

“Bulldog Four to Bulldog One?”

 

“That’s Parker,” he explained to Kate, knowing he’d given Parker a radio first thing this morning when it became clear that Strax was going to be most sensibly occupied outside.  “Bulldog One receiving, what’s the situation Bulldog Four?”

 

“Commander Strax insists he stays here, Sir.”  Parker and the Marine shared a smile - there were times when it really was rather easier to be the NCO giving the update to the CO.

 

“What do you mean stays here?”  Max looked at Kate, not exactly expecting to see anything as obvious as irritation on his mother’s face, but all of Troop knew that the moment Greyhound One  _ looked _ irritated generally required something planet exploding to be involved.  So that at least was the bright side of their unexpectedly stubborn Sontaran digging his heels in - clearly Greyhound One didn’t consider him a threat to the planet.  “Explain Bulldog Four, over.”

 

“Oh for heaven’s sake, give it here…”  Kate understood the importance of protocols and standard operating processes more than most, but she rarely had enough patience for the radio protocols at the best of times, nevermind in a situation like this.  Taking the radio from Max’s hand, she sized it up and pressed the transmit button, not bothering with call signs.  “What exactly did he say Parker?”

 

“I can’t remember exactly Ma’am, but something about being exiled to complete his punishment on the Brigadier’s orders.”  Parker looked at the Sergeant to see if there was anything else sticking in his memory, but he had nothing to add.  “He’s resumed weapons drill Ma’am, I did tell him who we were going to see but he refused to leave, over.”  Kate Stewart might not be too fussed about sticking to the radio protocols, but Parker wasn’t sure he’d be so fortunate if the logs of this exchange were ever reviewed by the Tower.

 

“Of course he has…” muttered Kate, giving the radio back to Max and starting to zip up her jacket.  “Can I borrow your hat please?” she asked, glad she’d decided to dress for the journey rather than their destination.

 

“My hat?”  It took Max a moment to work out what she was doing, a moment when fortunately Kate was rather more preoccupied with getting her stubborn zipper to work.  “Of course Ma’am.”  Pulling a spare hat out of his jacket pocket, Max held it out for her to take when she was ready.

 

“Thanks…”  Kate looked at it, surprised to see it was a bit more colourful than she was expecting.  “... I think?”

 

“Oh, sorry…”  Grinning sheepishly, Max put his decidedly non-uniform R2D2 beanie hat that Osgood’s mother had knitted for him back in his pocket.  “Packing error.”  

 

“Where’s your proper one?”  Seeing that he didn’t appear to have another hat to lend her, Kate stuck her hand out again.  “And give it here, I don’t care about uniform regs and Os will nag if I get cold ears.”

 

“I will not nag because you have cold ears,” objected Osgood mildly, coming down the stairs holding two black fleece hats, one of which she unceremoniously tugged over her girlfriend’s head.  “I will just not be patient when you complain about having cold ears.”  Osgood gave the other hat to Max, a third fleece hat already in her own jacket pocket.  “I guessed Vastra forgot to return your hat to you.”

 

“Thanks Os.”  Grinning, Max put the knitted beanie back in his inside jacket pocket and held onto the one Osgood had just given him, not sure what he could safely say without getting himself in difficulties.

 

“I do not complain about cold ears…” muttered Kate, knowing she was being teased as she tugged on the fleece hat, making a special effort to ensure that her ears were carefully covered by the warm material.  “...I grumble.”  And, deciding she couldn’t postpone the inevitable any longer, she opened the front door and stepped out into the cold.

 

“Bulldog One to Bulldog Four Over.”  As he made the radio call, Max, firmly back into ‘Captain Stewart’ mode, gently held out his arm to keep Osgood from setting off to follow Kate, not completely clear on what was about to happen but instinctively understanding that this was a ‘Brigadier’ moment rather than a Greyhound One moment.

 

“Bulldog Four receiving, go ahead?”  Parker was surprised to hear Max on the radio but happy to return to the familiar rhythm of the radio protocols.

 

“Greyhound One is en route to your position Bulldog Four, stand by for inspection.”  Max wondered if there was anything else he could say that would help Parker prepare for Kate Stewart emerging from the snow but since that was all he knew, he couldn’t add anything to that message.  “Bulldog One out.”

 

“Inspection?” Osgood’s question was asked so gently and carefully that a less experienced ‘Bulldog’ might have confused it with a casual query that didn’t require much in the way of an answer.  It was easily done, with a few soldiers forgetting over the years that Osgood was also a Greyhound, but Captain Stewart wasn’t one of those soldiers, while Max knew from even longer experience to never underestimate any question from Osgood.  “Of Parker?”

 

“No, Commander Strax.  I asked Parker to go and get Strax to meet us at the cars, but Strax refused…”  Seeing Osgood’s nose twitch as she started to try and piece together this latest jigsaw puzzle, Max rushed on, having suddenly joined the dots for himself.  “...I don’t outrank her.”

 

“Kate?  No, but Strax doesn’t know about Bulldogs and Greyhounds…”  At least, Osgood didn’t think the Sontaran understood the matrix structure of the UNIT command hierarchy, which meant…. “...oh.”  Osgood repositioned her glasses on her nose and blinked, before unzipping her own jacket, finding she was getting too warm with it fastened now they were waiting inside for a bit longer, another thought occurring to her.  “I’m going to call the Colonel…” she added, heading for the kitchen, thinking a glass of water was probably not a bad idea either.

 

“Problem?”  Max wasn’t sure whether he was asking Os as Bulldog One or Max, but decided he’d let Osgood work that one out - as far as he was concerned, she ‘outranked’ him when it came to ‘Kate Stewart’ handling on either hierarchy.

 

“Not yet.”

 

* * *

 

“This is bracing.”

 

“Ma’am!”  Snapping to something resembling attention whilst also catching his balance so he didn’t fall on her in surprise, Parker turned around to greet Kate Stewart, not sure if she was attending as Greyhound One or the Brigadier.  Not that it mattered, as either way she outranked him by several yards of gold braid.

 

“At ease Bombardier Parker,” encouraged Kate, spotting his near fall and taking a moment to make sure she had found a fairly solid bit of snow to stand in.  “Sergeant.”  She nodded to the SGC person Parker had been talking to, seeing his rank insignia just in time to be able to use it, just about remembering to contain her smirk when she heard the skepticism in his acknowledging ‘ma’am’ response.  She couldn’t begin to imagine what sort of a response she would have had if she’d been wearing Max’s knitted Star Wars hat. “Could you let Mr Strax know I’ve arrived?” she asked, not relishing the idea of clambering down the slope to where Strax was diligently clattering about doing something or other with great noise.  It was a timely reminder that for all their other military strengths and skills, no Sontaran had ever really mastered the art of covert or stealth operations.

 

“Of course Ma’am.”  Parker was about to set off down the short slope which, had it not been covered in yet more fresh snow, would have taken him only a couple of strides, when he paused.

 

“Yes Parker?”

 

“Permission to announce you as the Brigadier Ma’am?”  He knew, better than most did probably given his friendship with Max and assignment with Madame Vastra, that Kate Lethbridge-Stewart was not her father, and that while she was the second Lethbridge-Stewart who could technically use the title and rank of ‘Brigadier’, she rarely did so.

 

“Unless you can think of another way that gets us in from this snowstorm.”  Kate saw his expression change when he recognised the truth of her words.  “Me neither.”  It was tempting to add that she wouldn’t have volunteered for a walk through the Carter-Fraiser garden if she had any other ideas that might have worked, but stopped herself - these men had spent most of the morning outside supervising Strax, something that she was extremely grateful for, so the least she could really do was take this short walk. 

 

“Understood Ma’am.”  Squaring his shoulders, Parker carefully turned round and with a mixture of a slide and a stride, descended down to where Strax was concentrating on the weapons drill.

 

“Sergeant?”

 

“Yes Ma’am?”  

 

“Is there a target that weapon can be fired at?”

 

“Yes Ma’am.”  The Sergeant raised his arm and gestured towards what, in spring, was Janet’s attempt at a drift of daffodils and tulips, but right now was a snow-covered patch of grass under what Kate guessed was some sort of weeping cherry tree.  “The General told us to use that tree as a target, there’s a compost heap and bank of earth behind it.”

 

“You hit the tree?”  Kate was not one for undue sentiment, but it did seem a little harsh on the tree.

 

“No Ma’am.”  Her presumed rank made him twist round and look in the direction of the tree rather than say what his first thought was.  “The target must have blown down Ma’am.”  He twisted back around so he was once again looking at her, his hand reaching for his radio.  “Are you wanting to go shooting Ma’am?”

 

“Assuming you can find some ammunition, thank you.”

 

“Yes Ma’am.”  And, following the example set by Corporal Parker as the Sergeant now thought of the time travelling coachman-soldier, he also drew himself to attention before striding off through the accumulating snow to organise for the target board to be propped back up and for some ammunition to be brought for the P90… and possibly another P90, just in case.  Once he was out of her earshot, he’d also radio for a perimeter check behind the tree to make sure no one was in her line of fire were she to miss...in his experience, once Officers got that much rank they were either sniper standard like General Carter or safest without a weapon, so he’d prepare for both.

 

“Strax?”  Experience had taught Parker to approach the Sontaran carefully when he was handling weapons, even unloaded ones.

 

“I will not go Mr Parker.”  Concentrating hard on putting this weapon back together like he had been taught, Strax had not looked up from his task and therefore not seen who had joined them.

 

“Because you have orders to stay here from the Brigadier?”

 

“Yes.”  Strax put the partially assembled weapon down on his makeshift table and looked from it to the remaining pieces he had, before picking it up again and with surprising gentleness, turning it around in his hands until he had it held at the right angle for him to easily slide the (empty) magazine into position.

 

“But if you get new orders from the Brigadier you would follow them?”  Parker didn’t mean to keep Kate waiting, but he knew from experience that it would be quicker if he took a second or two now and made sure that Strax was not going to start off confused because he was looking at the situation differently to the rest of them.

 

“Yes.”  Strax reverently put the now fully assembled gun back on the table and looked up at his taller friend, blinking against the snow that tried to defeat him by rushing at his eyes.  “But until then I must complete my punishment.”  

 

Just as Strax was reaching for the gun to start to take it apart again, a gun that he had already forgotten he didn’t know how to assemble or dismantle an hour ago, Parker put his hand out and stopped his friend.

 

“Mr Parker, I really must protest.”  Strax was not happy with his friend’s increasingly determined attempts at disrupting him from his punishment duty.  “The Brigadier’s…”

 

“Waiting for you.”

 

“This is a trick to make me abandon my duty.”  Strax was having none of it, with his thoughts immediately turning to this enemy ‘snow’ and how it could be making his friend become a traitor.  “Have you been captured by the Moonites?”

 

“No he has not!”  Deciding that she wasn’t wearing enough pairs of socks to cope with Strax going on a Moonite detour, Kate strode down the short slope with an ease that surprised Parker until he remembered Max telling him about winter holidays in the Swiss Alps.

 

“Brigadier!”  Strax nearly toppled backwards in his haste to try and look up to where her voice had come from.

 

“Commander Strax.”  Kate managed to come to a stop in front of Strax and Parker without too much sliding and only a slight wince - she really was out of practice at dealing with non-London quantities of snow.  “Mr Parker, is Commander Strax’s weapon safe to fire?”

 

“Fire Ma’am?”  That hadn’t been what Parker had been expecting to hear, but he dutifully picked up the P90 and, taking care to ensure it was not pointed at anyone, proceeded to check its assembly.  “Just needs some ammo Ma’am.”  He secured the weapon and returned it to the ‘table’, which was actually a tarp stretched over a couple of crates they’d found earlier in General Carter’s garage.

 

“ The Sergeant’s sorting that out.”  

 

* * *

  
  


“Am I last?”  Janet looked at the group of people assembled in her hallway and decided that the group was complete save for two Generals.  “Where’s Sam?”

 

“Behind you Jan.”  Sam stood right behind her wife and looked from Vastra and Jenny to Max, only to realise who was missing.  “Where’s Kate?”

 

“She’s…”  Before Max could provide any sort of explanation, there was the not-so-faint sound of a  burst of gunfire.

 

“That was a P90.”  Even if Sam hadn’t already given permission for a target to be set up for firing at in the garden, she’d have recognised the sound of the gun that had accompanied her across several galaxies over the years.  “Is Strax not coming with us to the Base?”

 

“That wasn’t Strax,” said Vastra, not sure who it could have been, but knowing that Strax generally preferred to fire weapons with an accompanying Sontaran battle cry which her sharp hearing had not detected.

 

“She’d ‘ave ‘eard ‘is shootin’ a gun call if it were,” Jenny hadn’t expecting to have heard Strax’s call from this distance if it had been him firing the weapon, but trusting her wife’s hearing implicitly, immediately explained Vastra’s reasoning.

 

“That was the Brigadier Ma’am.”  Max had recognised the firing pattern the moment he’d heard it, knowing beyond a doubt exactly which of her many metaphorical hats she was wearing on top of the black fleece beanie Osgood had given her.

 

“Kate?”  Janet looked at Osgood without any attempt at hiding her disbelief.  “Are you sure?”  Given that Parker and at least one SGC Marine were also with Strax, Kate wouldn’t have been Janet’s first guess for firing the big gun.

 

“Definitely.”  Osgood nodded her head so firmly she had to immediately reposition her glasses.  “Otherwise we’d have heard the radio.”  Or be dead, thought Osgood and Max, but both sensibly kept that particular option to themselves.

 

* * *

 

 

“Inspection complete gentlemen,” announced Kate, re-engaging the safety on the weapon before handing it to the Marine Sergeant who was looking at her a little differently to a few minutes earlier, his binoculars quickly tucked back in the pocket of his outer jacket.  “Thank you.”

 

“Ma’am.”  Accepting the weapon, the Sergeant dutifully checked the magazine and safety before handing it on to another soldier to reload in case she wanted to use it again.  “Can I fetch the target for you Ma’am?”  He’d revised his opinion of this one - she might not be sniper grade, but she was certainly one hell of a shot.

 

“Is that the done thing here?”  Kate had never thought about keeping the target as a trophy before, but then she generally didn’t care to linger around Zygons and the like after shooting them.  A paper target was rather more hygienic than alien goo.  “Parker?”

 

“If it were me, I’d make a point of showing the Captain Ma’am,” advised Parker sincerely, having borrowed the Sergeant’s binoculars to see what sort of shots she’d made.

 

“No wonder Vastra likes you,” muttered Kate, winking at Parker to show she actually approved of his suggestion.  “Thank you Sergeant, that would be lovely.”  Smiling at him in thanks, she thought she saw him about to set off through the snow for it.  “But there’s no rush for it, just stick it through the letterbox when you get a second.”  Kate was a bit surprised when the Sergeant’s smile faltered.

 

“This is America Ma’am,” whispered Parker loudly, having already been caught out with the same confusion earlier when he’d been out on the drive with Strax.  Unfortunately Strax was less subtle, and paying close attention.  He also knew about letterboxes, finding the one at Paternoster Row to be an inexplicable weakness in an otherwise adequate perimeter, but Madame Vastra would not let him surround it with sonic mines.

 

“The American Mail is not to be trusted and is imprisoned at the perimeter.  That which escapes is threatened with laser cannon and surrenders.”  At least, that was how Strax had interpreted the barcode scanning machine that the delivery driver had used when the letters from the Tardis had been delivered earlier.

 

“Of course, thank you Commander.”  Kate could untangle the first half of Strax’s declaration, realising he was, in his way, telling her that Janet and Sam didn’t have a letterbox in their front door, but a mailbox at the bottom of their driveway, which explained why the Sergeant hadn’t fully appreciated her suggestion of putting the shot target in it.  The threatening with laser cannon she’d need Parker to translate later, out of Strax’s earshot.  “We’re just leaving for the Base now, but could I get it from you when we return please?”

 

“Of course Ma’am.”  Mystery partially untangled, the Sergeant looked less confused, although he still wasn’t entirely sure why she might bother showing it to Captain Stewart, but he knew better than to actually wonder aloud about that.  Perhaps Corporal Parker would explain at some point.

 

“Tip top.”  Kate pulled her fleece hat down a little more firmly over her ears, not liking the cool breeze that was now helping the snow to swirl rather than fall.  “Come on Strax, time to see the Doctor.”

 

“Yes Brigadier.”  And, in total contrast to how he’d been before she arrived, Strax quickly bustled forwards, only to turn back and glare at Mr Parker who was not moving fast enough for the Sontaran.  “Come along Mr Parker, we mustn’t keep everyone waiting.”

 

“Of course Strax…”  Sighing at his friend’s sudden transformation from stubborn ‘prisoner’ undergoing ‘punishment’ to eager to please Victorian Butler again, Parker came to attention and saluted the Marine Sergeant as the quickest way to thank him for his help before setting off to catch up with Kate who was only a step or two ahead of him but far more efficient at walking through the snow.  For a second he thought about radioing ahead to let Max know they were coming before changing his mind - she would have already told him to if she’d wanted him to.  He knew that Strax’s adherence to the Brigadier’s orders would be prompt when they came, but hadn’t expected it to be quite that quick.  Then again, the day Strax became completely predictable was a day Parker wasn’t looking forward to… 

 

* * *

 

 

“We should go meet them at the cars,” prompted Osgood, knowing Kate wouldn’t bother getting Parker to radio Max when they could just walk back around to the front of the house in a couple of minutes.

 

“Indeed.”  Vastra turned to the front door, the effect not quite as dramatic in 21st century fleece-lined snow gear as when she was wearing the height of late 19th century London fashion, but it was still rather commanding.  “And I am adequately dressed this time,” she added, not needing any advanced Silurian senses to ‘feel’ the concerned looks landing on her back.

 

“‘Ere, no need to be cheeky,” reminded Jenny, elbowing her wife in the waist as they headed out into the porch.

 

“I um…”  Max was caught between feeling like he needed to wait until everyone had set off outside and wanting to catch up Jenny and Vastra.

 

“Go,” said Osgood simply, tilting her head towards the door, understanding his conflict but also sensing that Sam and Janet were wanting to ask her something.  “We’re right behind you.”

 

“Ma’am.”  Max knew Osgood hated it even more than Kate did when he ‘Ma’amed’ her, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to exit the company of a Brigadier General and two Colonels (Osgood always forgot that for the purposes of clear chain of command, as Greyhound Two she was accorded the rank and respect of Colonel by the UNIT military) without some respect.

 

“I’ll…”  Osgood repositioned her glasses on her nose and made her own move towards the door, hoping that maybe she’d been wrong about Sam and Janet having questions that couldn’t wait, but also knowing that they’d probably appreciate the opportunity to shut up their own house without an audience.

 

“You didn’t need Silurian hearing to know that was Kate firing the P90…” Janet’s statement stopped Osgood before she’d got to the door, but not being framed as a question, Osgood didn’t reply.  “So it was a guess?”  Deep down, Janet knew Osgood wasn’t a guesser, at least, not about that sort of thing, but she wasn’t sure how else she’d know that Kate had fired the gun, unless she’d already told Osgood that was what she would be doing… but that didn’t fit with Janet’s assessment of Osgood’s character either.

 

“I thought I counted 4 shots?”  Sam agreed with Janet that if Osgood had been guessing or known in advance about Kate’s intention, she’d have said something to that effect.  “Single fire.”

 

“It was five.”  Osgood didn’t like the weapons side of UNIT much, finding the guns best kept in the hands of other people, but she, like many others in UNIT’s non-military divisions at the Tower, nevertheless had a certain degree of fondness for this particular firing pattern.

 

“Really?”  That wasn’t what Sam thought she’d heard, but there was a certainty in Osgood’s responses that left her reluctant to try and argue.

 

Osgood pulled up the zipper on her coat so she would be nice and warm outside.  “UNIT recommends that firing pattern in the event of direct alien attack at close quarters.  Not to be fired under any other circumstances by anyone other than the Brigadier.”

 

“What’s the firing pattern?”

 

“Five rounds, rapid.”  Repositioning her glasses so they weren’t irritating her, Osgood decided she was now ready to meet Kate at the car, but not before anticipating one more question.  “And no, I’ve never used it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Strax isn't allowed to sing is 'The Tuner's Oppor-tune-ty' which was a big hit in the Music Halls of Victorian England in the 1880s....and yes, 'tune' is a euphemism.....
> 
>  
> 
> _Miss Crotchety Quaver was sweet seventeen_  
>  _And a player of excellent skill_  
>  _She would play all the day, all the ev'ning as well_  
>  _Making all the neighbourhood ill_  
>  _And to keep her piano in tune she would have_  
>  _A good tuner constantly there_  
>  _And he'd pull up the instrument three times a week_  
>  _Just to keep it in proper repair._
> 
>  
> 
> _Chorus:_
> 
>  
> 
> _And first he'd tune it gently, then he'd tune it strong_  
>  _Then he'd touch a short note, then he'd run along_  
>  _Then he'd go with vengeance enough to break the key_  
>  _At last he tuned whene'er he got an oppor-tuner-ty._  
> [ _(full lyrics here)_ ](https://monologues.co.uk/musichall/Songs-T/Tuners-Opportunity.htm)
> 
>  
> 
>  


	40. Not brought to a boil

“General Carter’s office.”  

 

Jake had answered the phone on his desk before he’d really noticed it had been ringing.  

 

“She is?”  He looked down at his jeans and boots and then looked at his watch.  So much for only popping in for a few minutes…  “Thanks for the warning.”  Returning the phone handset to its base, Jake looked at his desk, wondering if there was any point in trying to tidy it up or whether he’d only create a bigger mess in the process - none of it was classified or sensitive, but all of it was in triplicate and in need of archiving and filing.  

 

Deciding he’d just have to accept his boss’ gentle telling off for coming in to do filing on the weekend, albeit accidentally, he picked up the phone again and dialed an extension, hoping his luck would hold.  “Hey, is Harry around?  It’s Jake Spirelli.”  He sighed in relief when the answer was in the affirmative… he might not have time to tidy his desk properly, but he did have time to ride the elevator up to level 18.  “Harry?  Jake Spirelli… yeah, I’m good man.  Look, I need a favour…”

 

* * *

  


“Does the Base have a teapot?”  

 

Until Janet’s question, the rather jam-packed elevator had been descending in silence, well, there was silence if you ignored Strax’s mutterings, which everyone was.

 

“That will not be necessary, we have brought one which we will use.”  It was Vastra who answered first, with Sam preoccupied with trying to work out how anyone could think it possible to fit 18 in the elevator given how congested it was with the four Victorians (she was finding it easier if she thought of Parker as a Victorian along with Vastra, Jenny and Strax), Kate and Osgood, Max and the three Airman providing the requisite security escort.

 

“Of course, thank you.”  Janet turned her head round so she was looking in Vastra’s general direction, wanting to smile in thanks for the loan of her teapot, only to discover that Max was stood between them, rather blocking the view.  “I was just trying to work out what we’d have done if we hadn’t been able to borrow yours.”  Now she verbalised her thought, it did sound rather silly...

 

“You probably have one somewhere.”  Osgood didn’t think Janet’s question was remotely silly, and had actually been thinking along not dissimilar lines, although in her case she’d been trying to remember how many teapots they had at the Tower, officially.

 

“We do.”  Kate had spoken with a certainty she suddenly realised she wasn’t entirely confident of, but only her sidelong glance in Os’ direction gave her away, and only Max and Osgood noticed.

 

“Seven...I think.”  Osgood noticed her scarf had slipped and was hanging lower down on the left side compared to the right and set about balancing it out, not liking the idea of Strax treading on it.

 

“Think?”  Janet had, in the twenty-four hours or so since she’d first met Osgood, correctly concluded that Osgood expressing uncertainty about UNIT was more surprising than the fact that Kate apparently had seven teapots at her disposal.  Probably.

 

“There was a small…”  Osgood looked to Kate for guidance about how forthcoming she thought they should be about the incident.

 

“Cataloguing error.”  Kate stepped out of the lift as the doors opened and held the doors open with her arm so everyone else who’d got in before her could now get out.  She’d discovered on her previous trips to the Base that it was best if she tagged along at the back of a group: she spent so much of her time as Greyhound One setting the pace for her security escort to keep up with, she invariably struggled when it came to walking the SGC corridors as she kept forgetting that she was supposed to follow rather than lead.  “And in retrospect, the tea service was easier to repair after being kept in the cryobiology store for a week than the pregnancy.”

 

“Quicker too,” agreed Osgood, recalling how awkward it had been for everyone involved in the five month pregnancy, although Ambassador Gerk had been extremely understanding and patient with them despite her discomfort.  Apparently Netflix had helped.

 

“Pregnancy?”  Janet had, despite her best attempts to expect the unexpected when hearing about how UNIT had a ‘different sort of alien’, was unable to let that particular anecdote pass by unexplained, apparently also now refusing to leave this particular corridor intersection until the mystery was solved.  How exactly had a question about teapot inventory led to pregnancy?

 

“Hmm?  Oh.”  Kate would have carried on walking straight into the back of the SGC airman providing security had Max not caught her firmly by the arm when he’d realised she’d forgotten she was not the one setting the pace.  “The Basturta are a fascinating species - their reproductive cycle involves self-fertilisation of the ovum.”

 

“Self-fertilisation?”  Janet was trying to remember that here, deep in the SGC, she was Colonel Doctor Janet Fraiser, Chief Medical Officer of Stargate Command and Earth’s preeminent expert on all things medical when it came to the Goa-uld, Jaffa and the like, but all she was really thinking was that she was talking with Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, _the_ K Lethbridge-Stewart who she definitely wanted an autographed 4th edition book from now. “Simultaneous hermaphrodites then?”  Janet recalled lectures focussing on gastropods and trying to explain how that was not the same as the sequential protogynous hermaphrodites, of which the Clownfish was probably the most famous now that Nemo had been lost and found.

 

“Given the possible options, that’s the best classification we have for them, but they’re no Banana Slug.”  Kate grinned when she saw Janet’s expression, clearly the American lecturers used the same reference species that she’d and her contemporaries used in England.  “They are a bipedal non-aquatic lizard…”  Kate was aware of everyone’s eyes turning towards Vastra, which was perhaps understandable given that technically, and in the very broadest of terms, that was what a Silurian was as well.  “...and look not dissimilar to an Emperor Penguin in silhouette.”

 

“That’s…”  Janet wasn’t quite sure how to finish her thought.

 

“...different?” suggested Sam, enjoying this unexpected insight into her wife’s field of accidental study, not to mention getting to see Janet in full blown ‘hero-worship’ mode with Kate.  She did however, also give a short nod to the escorting Airmen that they were to start moving along the corridor again, prepared if necessary to give her wife a gentle shove if she didn’t get the hint.

 

“They don’t actually resemble penguins…” added Osgood, worried in case Kate’s description was actually creating confusion.  “...unless they’re wearing their formal wear.”  It was, on point of principle, extremely rude and vulgar amongst the Basturtian culture to expose their back to view, meaning much of their wardrobe invariably resembled a cutaway tailcoat most commonly associated with ‘white tie’ evening dress.

 

“Anyway…”  Kate fell into step alongside Janet, Osgood on her left as Sam and Max led the way, with the Paternoster Gang and Parker hard on their heels, “...they do self-fertilise the ovum, but it’s in response to pheremones that they can all produce.  However, they also practice a form of contraception by managing when they release the pheremones.”

 

“Fascinating…”  Janet was already starting to draw parallels between the hormone treatments used in the treatement and management of a wide range of conditions and circumstances, but all that told her was why the Ambassador shouldn’t have been pregnant.  

 

“What is the significance of the teapot?”  Vastra too was intrigued by the insight she was getting into another species, but the ‘Great Detective’ hadn’t forgotten this conversation started with a recently repaired teapot, and the unexpected question from behind Kate brought them to a halt again.

 

“It was part of the cultural and scientific gifts the Ambassador had brought with her when she came to visit us…the tea service was sent to the deep freeze and the frozen pheromones were delivered to the Ambassador’s hotel room.  I arrived expecting to participate in their ceremonial welcome and instead met a confused and newly pregnant Ambassador.”

 

“That was the cataloguing error,” explained Osgood, adjusting her glasses.  “Their error it turned out, as the teapot had been put in the crate marked for the deep freeze before they’d left Basturtia.  It was all fine until the Ambassador opened the box supposed to contain a teapot and, well...”  Glasses comfortable, Osgood concentrated on her scarf ends, unwilling to make eye-contact with her smirking girlfriend who had a far funnier way of describing what she’d walked into.

 

“What ‘appened to the Ambassador?” Jenny was as fascinated as everyone else, though wasn’t sure about the self-fertilisation bit, or interested in the teapot.  Pheromones she was familiar with, and still wanted to talk to River Song about putting them on her letter to Vastra...

 

“Immediate bedrest and room service.  The Carlton Grange were very understanding.”  The hotel was one of UNIT’s preferred establishments, lived in by the Doctor during his Earth exile and long familiar with the need to keep the more unusual comings and goings of their UNIT guests extra secret.  A five month residency in one of their suites by a pregnant, penguin shaped lizard was amazingly not one of their stranger guests:  for one thing, the bathroom wasn’t flooded and they had actually slept in the bed provided rather than upside down in the wardrobe.

 

“The birth was attended by a team of Basturtian physicians and their equivalent of midwives and the five offspring are apparently going to grow up to be a perfect likeness of the Ambassador.”  Kate rubbed the back of her neck as they started walking again, recalling how they’d started down this conversational detour.  “The teapot was equally distinctive - tangerine with lime green accents, shaped like…”

 

“Like a bunch of bananas.”  Unlike Kate, Osgood had actually seen the teapot once it was repaired, so knew what shape it was.  “Upside down, like they grow on the plant.”

 

“That’s…”  Sam keyed open the door for the briefing room and, as she held open the door for everyone else to enter, was about to say that was ‘different’, when she was conscious of someone approaching them from around the corner, their footsteps giving away their identity before she saw them.  “Lieutenant.”

 

“General.”  

 

“What are you doing here Jake?”

 

“Generally or specifically Ma’am?”  He hadn’t been expecting to meet them in the corridor just outside the briefing room.

 

“Both.”

 

“I stopped by the Base to check I’d secured some files appropriately and became sidetracked catching up with some filing General.”  Jake moved over to the empty sideboard where there usually were some coffee urns if the General had any planned meetings.  “But I went to level 22 for a moment to borrow something I thought would help - I apologise for not being back before you arrived Ma’am.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“We already have a teapot thank you,” preempted Vastra, thinking perhaps Janet’s original question and his expedition were somehow connected.

 

“It’s not a teapot Ma’am,” explained Jake, opening the kitbag he was carrying and put its contents on the table.  “...but I know you didn’t consider the hot water urns to be the same as boiling water yesterday.”

 

“They were not.”  Vastra was sitting down at the table, but her back was ramrod straight and her eyes were sparkling an icy blue.  Uncharacteristically, she had forgotten her horror yesterday when, in requesting hot water for tea-making, she had been referred to the jugs of what, to her mind, was tepid water that had not reached boiling point for some hours.  In her own defence, she did acknowledge that it had been a rather eventful day and an inadequate supply of hot water for the making of tea was a minor detail permissibly overlooked even by her.

 

“She may be Silurian, but she’s become an English Silurian,” teased Kate, knowing that she’d only just stopped herself from making the same comment Vastra had made yesterday, but then Kate Stewart was supposed to be a highly skilled diplomat, something she did occasionally remember in time.

 

“For which your father takes the credit.”

 

“‘Ere, I thought it were the Doctor who taught you about tea?”  Jenny loved hearing stories about Vastra’s early experiences in London after her reawakening, but was reluctant to ask about them too directly knowing how often the stories started with Vastra’s grief for her sisters and for the good lives she’d claimed in her confused waking.  Jenny was not about to let an opportunity like this pass.

 

“He did my dear,” confirmed Vastra warmly, a warmth infusing her voice like it so often did when she thought of the Time Lord’s friendship and assistance, “but it was Kate’s father who taught the Doctor about tea.  And whiskey.”

 

“Sounds like Dad,” agreed Kate, sharing a smile with Vastra, added confirmation that their earlier tensions had been put aside and the air between them cleared.  “What did you borrow Lieutenant?”  She’d not meant to put him on the spot like that, but he’d been the first opportunity she’d thought of to change the subject away from her father.

 

“Umm…”  Feeling rather put on the spot, Jake carefully unwrapped the plastic bag that had been wrapped around the object, suddenly regretting his bright idea now he had the intent gazes of all these people on him, Strax included.

 

“Should I destroy it with laser cannon?”

 

“No thank you Strax,” said Sam quickly, smiling in a mixture of amusement and gratitude, finding it easier to decline the well-intentioned offer now she knew he didn’t actually have his laser cannon or any other weapons with him.

 

“Very well General Sam.”  Strax bobbed forwards in his seat as he performed his little butler’s bow to Sam, who had forgotten that Kate had taught him to call her ‘General Sam’ rather than ‘Tall Boy’.  

 

Many things still made very little sense to him, but the Brigadier’s instruction to consider the tall one ‘General Sam’ and the short one ‘Colonel Doctor’ had helped.  It also helped to know not to destroy any Osgood he found, although he still wasn’t sure what Osgood looked like or was.  He was also getting used to the idea of trusting the Moonite spy, although he had too many names and was very big.  But since he was a member of the Brigadier’s clone batch and a friend of Mr Parker’s, Strax was content to just watch Max and mutter in his general direction, rather than headbutt him again.

 

“It’s a jug?” asked Jenny, having ignored Strax’s interjection and instead been concentrating on Jake.  It was a bright shiny blue and appeared to be made of what she’d learned was the latest incarnation of what, from her perspective, was the relatively recently invented plastic.  She was still rather confused as to whether it was considered to be a good discovery or a bad one though.

 

“Specifically, an electric kettle,” confirmed Jake, pulling the plastic bag fully away so the kettle was clearly visible and placing it on the table.

 

“Like the blanket?” asked Jenny, gravitating towards the device that looked a tiny bit like the kettle she had in Paternoster Row except for the white string coming out from it, a string that looked like the one that was connected to the blanket that had made their bed so warm.

 

“Exactly like the blanket Jenny,” agreed Janet, smiling at the Victorian.

 

“Harold Saxon.”

 

“Excuse me?”  Kate and Osgood turned to look at Sam, each with their version of nonchalance despite being genuinely alarmed, while Max and Parker each moved towards the kettle, prepared to pounce on Kate’s order.

 

“Dr Harold Saxon, he’s an English academic, specialising in…”  It took her a moment, but eventually Sam remembered his research area, “...fabric.”  Sam had always understood it to be a fairly unusual specialism so wasn’t understanding what was prompting the unusual reactions from the 21st century UNIT visitors as surely their own experiences explained why a base like the SGC might require esoteric specialists like experts in textiles.  “Has an office on Level 22.  I’m guessing that’s his kettle?”

 

“Yes Ma’am.”  Jake had no idea what was going on, but like his boss, was picking up on the change in attitude of some of their guests.  “He’s the only guy I could think of who’d have one and be on base now to agree to lend it Ma’am.”

 

“Me too,” agreed Sam, still not clear what was troubling the UNIT team.  “Friend of yours Kate?”

 

“Maybe…”  Chewing on her lip, she exchanged looks with Osgood, trying to work out what to do.  It could be a coincidence, but then again…

 

“Is Dr Saxon a patient of yours Janet?” Osgood wasn’t entirely sure whether Janet would answer her questions, but it was an easy and quick starting place.

 

“He’s a civilian so no, but my team will give him a medical if he’s ever gone through the Gate.”  That, as far as Janet was concerned, was an answer about process rather than any single patient, so she was happy to answer it.  “Has he gone through the Gate?”

 

“Yes Ma’am.  Three times.”  Jake looked nervous under Kate’s intense glare.  “Harry and I go bowling together…”  He was one of Jake’s friends, but instinct told him not to mention that until Dr Stewart had relaxed her jaw, and perhaps had a gallon or so of tea.

 

“It can’t be him Kate,” reasoned Osgood thoughtfully, thinking about her own experience of an SGC Medical.  “It’s just a coincidence.”

 

“What am I missing?” asked Sam, looking from Kate to Osgood and then, with no immediate hint or clue, looking to her wife, who looked like she had an idea.

 

“You were in Atlantis…” began Janet, not sure this completely explained Kate and Osgood’s reaction, but would perhaps help the others as well as her wife.  “...The British Prime Minister had a...crisis.”  Professional courtesy meant she avoided using words like ‘breakdown’ as much as possible.  “His name was Harold Saxon.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“I cannot imagine Lord Salisbury being an expert in fabric,” declared Vastra, naming the Prime Minister she’d met on a couple of occasions as part of her semi-clandestine work as the Great Detective.  “It seems a most unlikely interest for a politician.”  She looked intently at Osgood, then fixed her clear blue eyes calmly on Kate.  “But I imagine that this ‘Harold Saxon’ of whom you speak was not an ordinary politician.  Was he an alien my dear?”

 

No matter where she was in time or space, Madame Vastra was still one hell of a detective.

 

Before Kate could answer Vastra’s question, Osgood had worked out another question to put to Janet.

 

“If a standard civilian medical ahead of a trip through the Gate was completed on someone who was not human, would you get to hear about it?”

 

“It would depend…”  Janet felt like she needed to pick her words with even more care than usual.  “...on whether the non-human had sufficient commonality with a human to ‘pass’ a standard respiratory exam.  Did you have something specific in mind?”

 

“Two hearts?”  Kate relaxed back in her chair, realising what Osgood’s idea was and already working out the answer to the question her girlfriend had very carefully not asked of the experienced Chief Medical Officer.  “Both in the thorax region, both associated with a single bipedal mammal.”  It was at moments like this that Kate’s scientific background and pedigree revealed itself - she couldn’t just say ‘humanlike’.  “Not a host and parasite.”

 

“I’d say we’d notice that,” confirmed Janet, her eyes widening as she automatically began to consider the possibilities and complications of such an anatomy.  “And can also say we’ve not encountered that particular characteristic.”  It was Janet’s turn to put two and two together and feel confident she’d arrived at an answer of four.  “Which presumably confirms Dr Saxon being in a position to lend us an electric kettle as a coincidence?”

 

“It does,” confirmed Osgood, pinking slightly when she saw Kate’s grin and rapid wink of praise at her for her questions and reasoning.  “And a very kind one too.”  She looked to Jake and smiled brightly.  “Can you please thank your friend for the loan?  And please not mention our…”  Osgood wasn’t sure what to describe their reaction to hearing one of the Master’s many names, reaching for her inhaler instead.

 

“Of course M...Osgood.”  Jake corrected his automatic ‘Ma’am’ just in time, having witnessed first hand yesterday how genuinely uncomfortable the scarf-wearing scientific advisor looked when she’d been addressed by it.

 

“Thank you.”  Kate smirked when she had another thought.  “This, by the way, is definitely something we do keep on a fairly need to know basis at the Tower...with most of us who do know wishing we didn’t need to!”

 

“Understood.”  Sam’s smile was equally bright, seeing the funny side of what might have otherwise been a slightly insulting observation about secrecy from one head of a super-secret organisation to another.   That they only learned about the whole Prime Minister was an alien episode in British Politics because the multi-billion dollar base couldn’t produce fresh boiling water without borrowing an electric kettle from a civilian was an excellent incentive, were one ever needed, for keeping extra quiet.

 

“The Prime Minister was a Time Lord?”  Vastra meanwhile, not interested in the politics of command, had been having a further think and had, as a result also put two and two together.

 

“The Doctor was Prime Minister?” Jenny’s contribution to the conversation saw Kate’s smile give way with a groan, realising she was going to have to provide a brief summary for her far too curious Victorian friends.

 

“Yes Vastra, Harold Saxon was a Time Lord but no Jenny, it wasn’t the Doctor, but another Time Lord known to the Doctor as The Master…”  Kate closed her eyes for a fraction longer than a regular blink, but only Max and Osgood noticed, the only hint that she wasn’t exactly fond of The Master, before continuing, composure regained.  “...and they have a complicated relationship that Earth is often in the middle of.  My father knew him.”

 

“I have heard of the Master.”  Now she knew who they were talking about, Vastra was understanding their concern and fixed an intent stare on Janet.  “You are sure you have no one with two hearts in this organisation?  Truth is singular.”

 

“Absolutely,” confirmed Janet, knowing she’d not met anyone with two hearts who wasn’t actually two separate creatures, like the Goa’ld and their host.  She wasn’t quite sure what ‘truth is singular’ meant, but whatever it did mean, her answer clearly satisfied the Silurian.  It was just something else to put on her list of unanswered questions that still included the ones about the ravens...

 

“The Master?”  Sam was equally confident she didn’t have one of Kate’s less welcome aliens on the Base, but still wasn’t entirely sure what the problem was with this particular alien, not recognising the name.  Surely someone that concerning would be in the high level briefings she and Kate shared?  “Have I been briefed?”

 

“Can I borrow a pen?” asked Kate, looking to Max, knowing he had one tucked in his uniform somewhere.  “Thanks.”  Instinctively, she also accepted his offered notebook.  “Sorry Vastra, Jenny, this counts as a spoiler…”

 

“We understand.”  Without argument, Vastra closed her eyes and, following her wife’s lead, Jenny put her hands over her eyes: as friends of the Doctor, they understood some aspects of the future had to be respectfully left in their own space and time, including whatever name or names The Master used through time that was best left well Vastra and Jenny's future.

 

Silently, Kate wrote one five letter word in block capitals on a page in Max’s notebook, then nodded for him to take it over to show Sam - she might not have known it, but she had definitely been briefed about The Master.

 

“Oh.”  Sam read ‘MISSY’ and then, swallowing, nodded to Max that he could put his notebook away.  

 

That was a name she did know.

 

* * *

  


“Two….” Alone in the corridor, he thumped his chest, hard.  “Hearts…”  He landed heavily against the wall, taking deep gasping breaths.  “Not…” He sank to the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him, revealing odd socks.  “Helping…”  

 

Closing his eyes, finding the light far too bright, he gulped in huge bites of air.

 

He couldn’t do it.

 

He thought he could, but now… drawing his knees up to his still pounding chest, he dropped his head down and tried to ignore his two hearts.

 

He couldn’t do it.

 

Could he?


	41. There's weird.... and then there's blue jello

“No.”

 

“But…”

 

“No.”  Strax pushed the teacup away from him.

 

“Err…”  Unsure what to do next, Parker looked first at Madame Vastra, then to Dr Stewart and finally Jenny.

 

“Mr Strax,” began Vastra with a patience Janet hadn’t been expecting, catching her interest. The Scottish lilt appearing in the Silurian’s voice fascinated the Stargate Doctor: was that just a phonic coincidence?  Was what was now known as ‘Scottish’ actually originally a ‘Sontaran’ accent? Or was it a recently acquired speech pattern? “You will take tea with us, no harm will befall you.”

 

“No.”  Although he sounded stubbornly determined not to comply, Strax was conflicted.  He generally didn’t understand the human fondness for ‘manners’, but he did understand respecting a senior officer and the Brigadier was looking like ironing would smooth out those face creases.  

 

Human emotions confused Strax, but when he saw a human face looking like they needed ironing he knew the Doctor said he should call that ‘worried’ if they were pale and ‘cross’ if they were extra pink.  And he absolutely must not offer to starch them, as that made them the red the Doctor said was ‘angry’ and ‘angry’ usually meant no sweets or beer. So he must not offer to starch and press the not red or pink Brigadier, which must mean he had made the Brigadier was cross.  

 

Again.  And a cross Brigadier was not a good thing, especially when the crossness was because Strax had done the wrong thing.  Which meant, as far as Strax was concerned, there was only one solution to his current predicament. 

 

“Brigadier?”

 

There was a long pause, ended only when Osgood reached out and poked Kate in the side, out of sight of everyone except Max, who officially saw nothing.  

 

“Yes Strax?”  Kate had been barely paying attention to what was happening in the Briefing Room, instead trying to work through her thoughts on various topics ranging from the current hormone therapies for ravens to whether the conservatory would be an adequate alternative location for the plants in the greenhouse that probably needed to be temporarily rehomed to the conservatory, via alien craft landing permits (even cloaked vessels required floorspace) and what she could or couldn’t remember of Gordy’s Christmas plans.

 

“This is not a Glorious Field.”  

 

“Is it not?”  There was a resolute certainty about Strax’s statement that intrigued Kate, surprising Vastra, who had expected her to react quite differently to his sudden fixation on her opinion when confronted with a confusion.

 

“No Brigadier.  I do not wish to die here.”

 

“I see.”  Oddly, Kate did see how that made perfect sense to Strax.  Raised within the Sontaran belief system that a cloned Sontaran Warrior’s highest honour was to die ‘on the Glorious Field of Battle’, Kate could understand how a fear of dying now manifested itself for Strax, especially given he was also in the unusual position, as far as a Sontaran was concerned, of having companions he was emotionally attached to.  “Were you planning to?”

 

“A good warrior never  _ plans  _ for death but must always be prepared for it.”  It was a mantra that Strax had known since he was one Sontaran parsec old, which in Earth time was about half a human eyelid blink.

 

“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”  Kate glanced to Osgood, trying to read anything in her girlfriend’s expression that might help her make progress with Strax, but Osgood was cleaning her glasses with her scarf.  Except she couldn’t be, as Osgood was wearing her glasses….distracted from her stubborn Sontaran for a moment, Kate reached for where her jacket pocket would have been, intending to find her own glasses, only to be reminded she wasn’t wearing her jacket, which meant she hadn’t brought her glasses to the Base…

 

“They were filthy,” chastised Osgood quietly, putting Kate’s now clean glasses on the table in front of Kate.  “And left by your hairbrush,” she added even more quietly, explaining to Kate how Osgood had ended up having them.

 

“Thank you.”  Putting her glasses on meant she could now read the hastily scribbled sign Max was holding up, taking advantage of being stood behind Strax and therefore in Kate’s line of vision but unseen by the Sontaran.  “You will take the tea Strax,” decided Kate, the mystery resolved now she could see what Max’s note said. “And you are quite correct, this is not a Glorious Field, but a well defended briefing room, so we shall all be quite alive at the end of it.”  Kate was relieved to see Max had managed to scrumple up the piece of paper he’d quickly written ‘JENNY’S DEATH’ on in big capital letters before Jenny turned back to the centre of the room with the full teapot. All things considered, Kate was incredibly impressed with how matter-of-factly the feisty Victorian was coping with everything that was currently being thrown in her direction, but being reminded of your own murder was something Kate didn’t want to bring up again.  “Not to mention hungry.” Kate tilted her head towards Vastra, hoping the Silurian knew where Jenny had hidden Strax’s favoured sweets.

 

“Indeed.”  Vastra dipped her crown in acknowledgment of Kate’s unspoken request, smoothly taking over the conversation.  “But once we have spoken with the Doctor, I do believe there will be time to have a jelly sherbet fancy before luncheon.”

 

There was a long silence while everyone watched as Strax frowned at a point just past his nose, concentrating carefully on what this plan of the Brigadier’s meant, although he was struggling to remember much except the ‘not dying’ and ‘jelly sherbet fancy before luncheon’ parts.  

 

“Mr Parker?”  Strax was satisfied with the plan - the ‘not dying’ and ‘jelly sherbet fancy’ parts were the important ones. 

 

“Yes Strax?”

 

“I will take the teacup.”  Strax reached out and pulled the delicate china teacup, previously established as being 16 years older than the ‘United States of America’, towards him with a podgy finger.  “And not die today…” He looked around the room, carefully memorising what each of them looked like so he could confirm there were no imposters present when they met the Doctor.  “...despite having to rely on putrescent alien filth rather than glorious Warriors of the Sontaran Empire.”

 

“Excellent!”  Vastra’s firm acceptance of his declaration was accompanied by a sharp nod to Parker, which he quickly interpreted as an instruction to keep passing out the teacups so that everyone who had received an invitation from the Tardis had one.

 

“Brigadier?”

 

“Yes Strax?”  Kate took her glasses off and put them down on the table, next to the teacup Parker had just put down in front of her, wondering whether Sam was reconsidering where she was ranking Strax in terms of ‘most creatively insulting while trying to be polite’, as for Kate, ‘putrescent alien filth’ was pushing him into her personal top ten, especially as in comparison to Sontarans, humans were remarkably good as a defence force since they generally had a far more highly developed sense of self-preservation.

 

“Do you like jelly sherbet fancies?”

 

* * *

  
  


“Sandwiches.”

 

“Hmm?”  River was concentrating on brewing the ‘tea’ that the Tardis had left out for them, knowing that it needed to be a good strong brew in order to take effect on a Time Lord.

 

“Where are the sandwiches?  And scones.” Adjusting his bowtie so it was neat and square under his chin, the Doctor looked around the smaller of the Tardis’ dining rooms, starting to notice what was missing.  “Tea isn’t tea without scones and sandwiches…” 

 

“It’s not that sort of tea.”  River decided that the ‘tea’ looked a good colour now, and put the lid back on the teapot.  Picking it up, she turned around and moved towards the table where the two china teacups had been set out for them.

 

“Well it should be…”  The Doctor dropped into one of the chairs, his arms and legs managing to take up an impressively large amount of space as they untidily arranged themselves around his torso.  “...and what is that?” he asked, recoiling in horror when she poured the steaming liquid into the teacup.

 

“Tea…” Sighing at his predictability, River poured her own cup of the bright blue liquid and put the teapot down in the centre of the table.

 

“No it isn’t.”  The Doctor reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, intending to analyse it with his sonic screwdriver.  “It’s blue.” His nose twitched, twice. “And smelly, like Strax’s wet socks smelly.”

 

“Then stop smelling it,” retorted River practically, shaking her head in despair at his antics.  She’d known he was going to be nervous about entering the trance required for the ‘conference call’ - according to Idris’ note that she’d left for River in the Wardrobe, he’d never done one before.  When she first read the note, River had been momentarily surprised by the revelation but it did make sense when she thought about it - as a Time Lord with a Tardis, her husband was able to travel through time and space at will, meaning he could meet up with anyone he fancied, at any point in time or place in the universe, unlike the rest of them who had to ‘call’.  Except his ability to travel through space and time didn’t quite allow him to visit everyone...just anyone that wasn’t his own Tardis.

 

“Why is it tea?”  Talking was something he did when he was nervous, not that he was always nervous when he talked, because he wasn’t often nervous.  He was hardly ever nervous, he was a Time Lord. He changed his mind about wanting his sonic screwdriver, and patted his pockets instead, wondering whether this jacket had a proper handkerchief in it.  “Why is it blue tea?” He was talking again. Definitely talking because he was nervous, not nervous because he was talking. “Blue isn’t a tea sort of colour. Even on Xrangu Seven blue isn’t a tea sort of colour, and there everything is a colour sort of tea.”  That didn’t sound right. “Or do I mean a tea sort of colour?”

 

“It’s tea because it’s not a candle.”  River sat down behind her own teacup and, courtesy of his very vivid description, deliberately did not smell the rising steam.  “And it tastes worse when it’s cold.”

 

“It does?”  Intrigued, he picked up the teacup and brought it up towards his face, intending to just dip his tongue into the liquid for a quick taste sample.  “Bleugh!” He moved the cup away from his mouth, waggling his tongue in and out of his mouth in disgust at the taste. “It tastes like Strax’s wet socks too…what?”  She was looking at him in a way that made him think she’d decided he’d said something silly. “I know what it tastes like!”

 

“I don’t doubt that,” agreed River, confident that he was speaking from experience.

 

“So what’s with the….”  Finding no words springing to mind, the Doctor reached forwards and prodded her slightly squinty nose. “...frowny?”

 

“Why do you know what Strax’s wet socks taste like?”  It was, realised River, one of those questions that she regretted asking the moment she’d asked it.

 

“Because I tried them, silly.”  Feeling like he was maybe not so in control of the conversation after all, the Doctor straightened his bowtie and briefly wondered if he could go and find his Fez, before deciding Sexy would probably rearrange herself so his bedroom had been replaced with the septic tank or something equally as bad, like the ironing board cupboard.  “How else were we going to find out if my wet socks tasted the same as his?” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, a feeling of warm satisfaction at beating her in this unexpected verbal jousting match as he watched her frowny squinty nose thing undo itself, which could only mean that her immediate agreement with his logic was next….or not.

 

She wasn’t doing that frowny squinty nose thing anymore.  She was doing that raised eyebrow thing now, and not in the ‘how about some fun with a hint of exciting sort of danger’ way that saw him breaking her out of prison to go dancing for her birthday. This was the sort of raised eyebrow that was asking him why he’d wanted to know what his own wet socks taste like in the first place...and that was a question that he wasn’t prepared to answer as he’d promised several versions of himself to never, ever think about his ‘Stag night’ again, nevermind talk about it with anyone.  So he did the only thing he could think of given the circumstances.

 

He drank the tea, every last drop of it.

 

“Men…” muttered River, smiling affectionately at him as she reached across and righted his empty teacup, the deliberately strong brew seemingly taking effect almost immediately, although his earlier ‘tongue dip’ sampling was helping the rapid reaction.  “...so predictable…” Picking up her own cup, she carefully blew on the still hot liquid - letting it cool for a moment did take the edge off the worst of the flavours and gave a chance for the liquorice flavour to intensify and distract from the wet wool.  Then, with a final fond smile at her seemingly snoozing husband, River took a delicate sip and returned her teacup to its saucer before closing her eyes and letting the strong concoction have its effect on her. She’d been right to think she had to wait to take hers until after he’d set off, but what he would get up to if he was the first to arrive was anyone’s guess…

 

* * *

  
  


“How do you want to do this?” asked Sam, accepting her empty teacup with a smile of thanks from Parker as he worked his way around the table.

 

“It’s your Base…” pointed out Kate, more interested in what was going on in the corner of the room, where Max was showing something to one of the SGC security team on his phone, only for Osgood’s nudge to her knee under the table to make her pay closer attention to Sam.  “...General.”

 

“And one of your….”  Sam was suddenly conscious that she didn’t actually know how long Madame Vastra’s tongue was, but she suspected that the length of the briefing room table was probably not long enough to place her out of venom strike range if the Silurian felt so inclined.  “....VIPs organising the gathering.” She looked meaningfully at Kate, hoping she translated that into ‘they’re your aliens, we’re just helping’.

 

“Captain Stewart?”  Smiling with amusement at Sam’s diplomacy, Kate relaxed back in her chair and waited for Max to acknowledge her.

 

“Ma’am?”  Max’s professional ‘how can I help a senior officer?’ smile faltered slightly when he saw her, relaxed in her chair - that particular smile, which was perhaps more appropriately described as a wry smirk with a large dose of amusement, was his mother’s ‘enjoying herself smile’, and unofficially came with a recommendation from General B to increase the security level, just in case.

 

“Do I have a plan?”  Kate tilted her head slightly to the side, inviting him to continue the conversation for her.

 

“Absolutely Ma’am.”  He turned slightly so he was able to look more directly at General Carter as well, since this was definitely  _ her  _ Base and not the Tower.  “General Carter, with your permission, we’re going to post paired sentries following the SGC’s Gallifrey security protocol inside the room and outside at all entrances.”  He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling the nerves he didn’t feel when the Brigadier-General he was briefing was someone he’d known for most of his life. “We have no specific threat report Ma’am, but will take all precautions.”  He glanced at the piece of paper he was holding, that he and Jake Spirelli had been scribbling as they worked out how to deliver the ‘no murders during the ‘conference call’ please’ request from Dr Fraiser, along with the Marine Gunnery Sergeant in charge of the Gate Room security teams, while also keeping this mostly on a ‘need-to-know’ basis.  “Lt Spirelli and Bomb Parker will be in the room in case anyone is needed urgently Ma’am.”

 

“Bomb?”  Jenny had been following the conversation carefully as she waited for the ‘tea’ to cool before it was poured out, but was confused by the sudden use of the term.  Fortunately however, her quick glance towards Strax suggested that he appeared to not be listening at all, no doubt already thinking about his favourite sweets, which was a relief - no situation was ever improved by his offering of an acid trap or two.

 

“ _ Bombardier _ Parker…” pointed out Kate, having noticed Max using the informal mode of reference to Parker’s rank designation.  “...and he won’t explode, will you Parker?” Kate’s irrepressible dry wit helped to lighten the mood that had descended on the room when presented with the very sensible and serious security plan that had been rapidly worked out in order to help provide assurance to everyone involved in the Tardis’ rather unusual request.

 

“Plan not to Ma’am,” agreed Parker, grinning at Kate before looking at Jenny, who was still looking a bit unnerved.  “It’s just the Army’s way of calling me ‘Mr’ Miss.” It wasn’t quite accurate, but it did seem to help Jenny relax, as did him shifting back to how he spoke to her in Paternoster Row.

 

“Tip top.”  Satisfied with their preparations, Greyhound One nodded her thanks to Captain Stewart as a proud Mum shot a lightning fast wink at her son for doing a thoroughly good job of things.

 

“Thank you,” added Sam, sending her own smile of endorsement in the direction of Lt Spirelli and the Gunny, knowing neither of them had planned for their Saturday to include an alien ‘thing’, which reminded her.  “Jan?”

 

“Hmm?”  Janet had been mostly tuned out of the military discussion, still trying to wrap her head around what Vastra had explained to her on the drive to the Base about how this ‘conference call’ worked.  In the SUV it had all been quite abstract and hypothetical, making her not notice how it sounded more like a sci fi film plot than actual medical reality, but now she was watching the steam rising from the spout of the teapot, the teapot that was 16 years older than the United States of America….well, it was still sounding like a sci fi film plot, but it was also rather real...and about to happen to her, not one of the SGC off-world teams.

 

“Should we be hooked up to anything?”  Sam gestured vaguely in front of her, loosely indicating she was thinking of the sort of cardiovascular monitoring Janet seemed to delight in plugging SG1 into whenever they returned with an extra alien ‘something’.

 

“Are you volunteering to authorise the overtime General?” asked Janet, her eyebrow raised in polite challenge to her wife, the unspoken question clearly understood by Kate and Osgood as well as Sam: medical monitoring meant results, and results meant reports, and reports meant finding answers to questions it was easier to just not ask.  Also, Janet had got a strong sense from Vastra and Kate that UNIT considered this to be a perfectly ordinary ‘thing’ to do without a full scale medical diagnostic, which was another reason to not insist this happened with half the Infirmary staff present, and yet another way in which UNIT and the SGC were far from similar.

 

“Alright then.”  Sam looked around the room to see if there was anything else that needed to be covered before they did whatever they needed to do to get this ‘conference call’ started.  “Is there anything else we need to cover?”

 

“I will drink it first.”  Vastra’s measured voice filled the silence that had fallen on the room when Jenny had picked up the teapot and started to work her way around the table, pouring out the blue tinted liquid into the teacups.  “And therefore be on hand to perform introductions if they are needed.” When they had left the Carter-Fraiser house, Vastra had been determined that she should would be the last to drink the tea, not wishing to abandon her post as her wife’s warrior-protector until she had no other option and was satisfied that they would be safe while in contact with the Tardis and the Doctor.  But now, having heard the plans Max and his American equivalents had put in place, she was rather more concerned about what might happen if River was permitted to make the introductions. She inclined her head towards Kate and Osgood, the bright overhead lights reflecting in her scales as she dipped her crown in the Silurian Warrior’s equivalent to a military ape’s salute.

 

“Thank you Vastra,”  Kate acknowledged Vastra’s proposal with a nod of her own, understanding this was the final part of the Silurian’s apology for her behaviour in the kitchen earlier, while Osgood, who had missed most of the tension, smiled and nodded her thanks before then nervously checking that the ends of her scarf were still level.

 

“Do we need to drink all of it?” asked Janet, eying the rather full cup Jenny had just poured her.

 

“No,” said Jenny, pouring the final cupful into her own teacup and putting the teapot back down on the table.  “‘Abit makes me pour ‘em full. But a sip’s enough...” She sat down next to Vastra, giving her wife a firm glare as she did.   “For us ‘umans.” The glare was now understood by everyone who had been listening and watching, as a firm instruction to Vastra to not call their American and British hostesses ‘apes’.  “An’ then jus’ close yer eyes.”

 

“To the Tardis,” proclaimed Vastra, raising her teacup in a toast before she proceeded to drain her teacup before replacing it on its saucer and closing her eyes.

 

“SONTAR-HA!” declared Strax, who hadn’t really been paying attention to what they’d all been talking about (these human females did make his head hurt with their voices so he only really concentrated when he thought they were talking about important things like battle planning, beer, acid traps and sweets) but recognised when a toast to the Glorious Empire was necessary.  Copying Vastra, he downed his tea and shut his eyes, although it wasn’t immediately obvious to anyone except Jenny, who was sat opposite him.

 

“Er, Osgood?”

 

“Yes Jenny?”  Osgood looked up from her own close study of the pale blue tea, not sure what Jenny wanted.

 

“‘Is teacup.  Could you er…”  Jenny didn’t want to delay too long before she sipped her own tea, knowing Vastra would be worrying about her as long as she wasn’t able to ‘see’ her join the call, but she couldn’t ignore Strax’s teacup either - not only would another broken tea cup mean they only had seven left in this particular set (they’d started with twelve), but the noise of it breaking would disturb the call and embarrass Strax.

 

“Oh…”  Turning to her left, Osgood saw exactly what Jenny was concerned about and carefully extracted the empty teacup from the Sontaran’s slack fingers, and reunited it with its saucer. As an afterthought, she prudently moved the cup and saucer a bit further away from Strax.

 

“Thank you.”  Disaster averted, Jenny raised the cup to her lips and taking great care to not inhale the steam, she took a sip before quickly returning the teacup to the table, having enough time to smile at Janet before her eyes closed.

 

“Just a sip?” asked Janet cautiously, having made the mistake of smelling the steam and finding her eyes were now watering.  She was not looking forward to what it tasted like.

 

“Inhaling the steam for a minute or so works too…assuming you can cope with the smell,” warned Kate quickly, seeing that Janet was still holding the teacup quite close to her face, prompting the medical doctor to move the cup further away while she listened to Kate’s explanation.  “It’s more usual for this to be done with a candle, but in certain situations the tea is safer.”

 

“Safer?”  Janet zeroed in on the implied risk, starting to regret not insisting on infirmary monitoring now.

 

“She means drier,” explained Osgood as she took her glasses off and gave them to Kate for safe-keeping.  They had found one officially recorded ‘call’ experience that Kate’s father had made, which was mostly unremarkable aside from him mention how he’d regretted not taking his reading glasses off before he’d joined ‘the call’.  Apparently, he’d spent most of the time trying to not fiddle with the glasses he could feel but not see. “And that’s assuming the fire suppression systems here are as sensitive as ours were.”

 

“Were?”  Sam had, over the years, managed to speed up the initiation of the SGC’s fire suppression systems in the event of an actual fire starting, as their early experiences had taught them to never underestimate how flammable alien materials could be.  She didn’t like the suggestion that their current fire suppression systems might not be on a par with UNIT’s current systems, never mind some point in the recent or not so recent past.

 

“During my father’s time at the Tower they were a little too sensitive.”  Kate remembered laughing until she was unable to sit up straight in her chair as her father recounted what had happened when he and unnamed others (so probably Sarah Jane Smith or Tom Osgood based on his other stories) tried to join the ‘call’ they’d been invited to using the candles.  Still in the Black Archive now, they were mostly useless lumps of wax as the high pressure overhead sprinklers had not only extinguished the candle flame, but managed to ruin the soft wax candles somehow too. How exactly this had happened was one of the many mysteries stored in the Black Archive waiting for a day when someone had time to investigate, with the ‘someone’ probably Osgood or Kate, once they’d got Tom Osgood to tell them what else had been near the candles when the not-recorded-anywhere ‘call’ had been attempted.

 

“There have been several upgrades since then,” added Osgood, blinking while she adjusted to the rather fuzzy view she now had as she reached for her own teacup, preferring to get this bit over with as soon as possible.  “But we haven’t got a proper analysis on the candles yet, so the tea is easier.” She held the cup in front of her mouth, ready to take her sip. “Cheers,” she added, not feeling like it was quite right to take the sip without some sort of announcement, but she was no good at toasts so kept it simple.  Small sip taken, and trying not to think about what it tasted like, Osgood quickly put the cup back down on the table and closed her eyes, unaware that Janet had copied her movements and was also now on her way to the call.

 

“A sip?” asked Sam finally, once she realised it was just her and Kate ‘awake’, Jake Spirelli, Parker and the security sentries not really registering with her as people who were listening to her.

 

“For me, yes.  For you…” Kate canted her head to the side and rubbed the back of her neck as she considered what she knew from Sam’s own explanation about the Goa’uld Jolinar’s impact on her physiology.  “...I’d suggest a gulp.” Kate glanced around the room, making swift eye contact with Max, Parker and a Troop soldier she recognised but couldn’t just remember the name of, satisfied that all was well with the Dogs.

 

“All good Jake?” asked Sam, her desire to catch her wife up wherever this ‘call’ was only just checked by a final check that the Base was in good order - there was no reason for it to not be, as it wasn’t like she had planned to be on Base just now.

 

“All good General,” confirmed Jake, finding her smile infectious.  

 

“Alright then.”  And, with a final glance around the room, Sam nodded to Kate and gulped down the tea, quickly returning the teacup to the saucer before she swallowed the hot liquid.  “Holy Hannah…” And then her eyes closed, leaving them all to wonder what had prompted her rather un-General-like reaction.

 

“Is she…”  Concerned, Jake looked to Max to see if he understood her reaction.

 

“She’s fine,” promised Kate, the last invitee to the ‘call’ to not yet be ‘asleep’, surprising Jake, who’d realised he’d been assuming ‘his’ Brigadier-General would be the last one to ‘sleep’, not Dr Stewart.  “It just doesn’t taste at all like blue jello.”

 

“Does anything Ma’am?” asked Jake, relieved to see Captain Stewart wasn’t too concerned by things.

 

“I’d have to try some blue jello to answer that Lieutenant,” said Kate reasonably, her use of the British pronunciation of his rank catching him by surprise, not that he should have been.  “Dogs happy Max?”

 

“Yes Ma’am.”  If he’d been surprised that General Carter had been prepared to let Kate be the last one ‘out’, he took care not to let it show - he’d maybe ask his Mum about it one day, but for now was prepared to assume (correctly as it would turn out) that this was one of those situations where aliens were like away goals in Cup Ties and counted double in the event of a draw, putting Kate just ahead of General Carter despite them being on General Carter’s base.

 

“Tip top!”  And, without any fuss, Kate sipped the repugnant tea, winked at Max as she put down her teacup and closed her eyes.

 

As Jake, Max and Parker took up their positions alongside the other soldiers and airmen who made up the larger security detail, Jake thought back on the events of the last 24 hours or so, marvelling that it really was just over 24 hours since UNIT came into the SGC and he gained Gallifrey clearance.  Watching over these seven people, the mix of time travellers and aliens unusual even by SGC standards, he remembered what Chief Master Sergeant Harriman had said to him in the Gate Room yesterday as the UNIT group came through the Gate, leading their horse and carriage.

 

_ “This is what the General meant by having ‘fun’?” _

 

_ “Oh no Lieutenant, this is just the beginning.  It’s going to get a lot weirder…" _

 

He’d found it hard to believe then, as they watched River Song saunter about the Gate Room in a beautiful ball gown, that weirder was possible, that that had been just the beginning, but now?  

 

Now he was just trying to work out whether Kate Stewart had been serious when she’d said she’d have to try blue jello…he hoped not, as blue jello?  That really was something weird…


End file.
